Long Way Down
by Castalle
Summary: MCU. Post IW - Toomes escapes prison in the chaos caused after Infinity War and tries to find his way back to his wife and daughter, but ends up forced to cooperate with Mac Gargan's own plans to form a new team.
1. Chapter 1

Toomes figures he's stroking out. He must be stroking out. His cellmate just turned to dust in the middle of his morning piss.

It isn't long after he pinches himself a few times that the shouts and screams of genuine terror begin to fill the prison beyond his door.

Well, on the bright side, he's not stroking out.

On the other hand, _what the fuck is going on._

* * *

By the time the prisoners have overcome the guards and an all-out riot is taking place, a knot the size of Texas has formed in the bottom of Toomes' stomach. What about Liz? What about Doris? He even briefly thinks of Mason and Schultz.

His fear only worsens when he reaches one of the abandoned guard stations where a television is displaying a news reporter as white as a sheet. As the man struggles to read out from the teleprompter Toomes begins to realize that something has gone very, very wrong.

Screams of pain and rage from just outside the guard station bring him back to the moment. He has to get out of there, he has to find a way to Liz and make sure his baby is safe. With all the ensuing chaos, it shouldn't be too hard to get back to the mainland. At least, that's what he has to tell himself right now. He can't allow himself to get distracted by all the what if's floating around about just how many different ways this could go wrong.

* * *

The surviving guards from the massive riot are struggling to get the ferry working and get back to Long Island. Toomes knows he's only going to get one chance at this, and the window of opportunity to sneak onto that boat is rapidly narrowing. Huddled behind a lockbox full of life vests on the prison ferry docks, he wishes these panicking guards attempting to escape a deadly prison riot would have their shit a little less together so he could sneak on easier.

With no gun and no flight harness, he knows that all he's got on his side is a good left hook. Still, it's his baby girl on the line – the tug of his instincts as a parent are just too loud to ignore. Not that he'd even try to ignore them in the first place. He hopes Doris is there too – but Liz is priority. He knows too that Doris wouldn't blame him for thinking that way. If she were forced to choose between Liz or Adrian, of course she'd choose Liz, and Adrian would be all the more grateful to her for it.

A hand slaps down on his shoulder, snapping him out of his concentration. He turns elbow shooting up on reflex and catching Gargan square in the nose. Toomes hears a crunch and Gargan snarls in pain, covering his face for a moment before shaking it off.

"Simmer down, Toomes." Gargan hisses quietly, rubbing his nose. "Remember how I said I got friends on the outside?"

Adrian squints at him, and it's not just the dim light of the darkening skies. He doesn't trust Gargan as far as he could throw him. It's just his luck too that out of all the prisoners to survive whatever the hell just happened, one of them is this guy. Toomes gave plenty of guys second chances in his salvage company. Guys who, by all rights, didn't deserve another chance. He gave it to them anyway.

Still, something about Gargan made his skin crawl. In a way that he'd never really experienced before. He'd experienced anger, jealousy, rage – sure. Lots of things like that. They were simple emotions and he considered himself a pretty simple guy, so there wasn't a lot to get mixed up. This feeling on the other hand, it was something far more visceral. A primal fear in the back of his mind that was telling him to get as far from Mac Gargan as he possibly could. Still...he trusted at least that Gargan wasn't the type to just downright lie about knowing people on the outside who could help him. He'd be surprised if Gargan hadn't been swimming in criminal cohorts.

It was either deal with Gargan for a little while until he could get to the mainland, or deal with a ferry full of terrified prison guards that was warming up its engines.

"...Yeah I remember. What about?" He put on a face that, he hoped, would make him look unimpressed.

Gargan didn't seem to care either way, pulling him up to stand. "We're bustin' outta here. Come on man, just you, me, and a few of my buddies. I got us a boat already on the way."

Who the hell was this guy connected to? Adrian wanted to ask, but he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know.

Toomes considered himself, if nothing else, fit for someone in their mid 60's. He'd always been an active guy, almost purely out of his various construction jobs throughout the decades. That old strength he carried with him however was nothing compared to the heavy, broad strength that a man like Mac Gargan had.

Gargan squeezed his shoulder and all but dragged him away from the docks. Toomes eyed a shank, covered in blood, in the man's other hand. He sighed silently, allowing Gargan to drag him back toward the prison. When it came to fight or flight – Adrian was prone to flight. It wasn't that he was afraid of a fight, but it was best to often bide one's time and take the correct opportunity to strike.

Right now was one of those pivotal moments. It didn't fit conveniently into fight or flight. Rather for now it was fight or follow. Fight Gargan and try to get back to the ferry. Most likely die. Follow Gargan and only maybe die.

 _Follow it was then._


	2. Chapter 2

It didn't take long for Adrian to determine three very simple things.

One.

Waffle House was _awful_ and all those times a very young Liz had screamed in the car at being denied Waffle House visits was entirely worth the ear splitting shrieks.

Two.

The sound of four fellow escaped convicts all eating, most of them with their mouths open for whatever god forsaken reason, ranked second in _'Most annoying things Adrian Toomes has had to listen to.'_

They got the spot right behind Mason giving him a three hour long lecture on _No, boss, you seriously just need to look at the data, chemtrails are a reality and we're all living it._

Three. The only reason Gargan had helped him get out of prison was to lead them to one of his old safe houses.

The safe 'house' was more of a safe 'warehouse' that was one of many abandoned facilities his crew had used as drop off points, stake out locations, or arms testing sites. A side effect of a giant alien attack on New York City was somewhat of an exodus from around the state of those who could afford to leave. The city itself never ceased to draw people to it, despite the events that had transpired there. That still didn't stop smaller cities in other regions from suffering from a bit of migration over the years. Enough to create a domino effect that left more than a few smaller towns without the economies to sustain themselves.

Hence, Toomes had never been out of abandoned or derelict buildings to hide in during his years of the back and forth.

Whether Gargan knew that from just being smart enough to suss it out from how Toomes' operation had worked, or whether he was just guessing, Adrian couldn't tell. It didn't really matter at this point because he was basically being press ganged into helping Gargan and his squad out. A squad that seemed suspiciously (aside from their table manners) _professional_.

That set Adrian at unease. Gargan was a loose screw, that much was certain. He was also extremely good at putting on an air of casual friendliness and making himself seem like just a good ol' boy on a road trip with his buddies. Just a couple of guys cruising upstate New York in the middle of an earth-shattering disaster that had plunged the world into utter confusion and chaos.

Two said buddies were uncomfortably muscular, so much that Adrian had to try and distract himself so he wouldn't stare. He'd caught the name Sergei directed towards the one with black hair. The bald one next to Adrian was Aleksei.

Aleksei wasn't half bad. He chewed with his mouth shut, so Toomes had to give him points for that. Seriously, was this a prison thing or had he just been sheltered from loud eaters his entire life? He'd also offered Adrian a cigarette back at their last gas station stop. Toomes didn't smoke, but it was the most he'd interacted with any of them, aside from Gargan.

Adrian prodded the "cheese" and "eggs" that were on his plate with a sigh of distaste. Doris had always been particular about food, and when they'd gotten married she'd passed it on to him. There was no doubt in his mind that her demands for a healthy lifestyle for the both of them was why he was in the shape he was today.

"What's wrong?" Gargan grunted from the other end of the booth. He was neck deep in what must've been six waffles, stacked one on top of the other.

Damn those young people and their metabolisms.

Toomes shook his head, nudging the plate away. "Not hungry." He said with a sniff, implying his distaste for the entire establishment. Any opportunity to make Gargan acutely aware of his displeasure without the threat of violence, he would take.

"Well eat up anyway. Ain't no other place to stop until we get to the next town." Gargan muttered, turning his attention back to his food.

"There is grocery-" Aleksei began, but Gargan grunted, silencing him.

"It's being looted as we speak." Sergei muttered apathetically, more invested in staring at the television mounted on the wall nearby.

The small screen was displaying a sad attempt at a news station to try and cover the chaos and confusion that was following the 'event'. So far no one had come up with a catchy term for 'half of everyone I knew just turned into dust'.

Toomes glanced outside at the narrow road that divided the tiny, upstate town. The businesses had been abandoned, to no surprise. What few people _were_ on the streets were those who weren't going to let a mild apocalypse get in their way of a new television set. Adrian had to admire that opportunistic mindset.

Of course, as much as he maligned Waffle House's abysmal excuse for eggs and cheese, he also had to give them credit for even being open. No doubt a few newly-ashed staff members were being carried by a strong breeze up to Canada. Happy trails.

Adrian shrugged, standing, and shoving his plate of what some would call 'food' towards Aleksei.

"I'll take my chances with the grocery." He muttered, pulling on his jacket.

Gargan had insisted on stopping by the evidence locker before they made their escape several days prior. He'd found enough cocaine to fund a small army. Adrian had found his jacket. Toomes considered himself the clear winner in this case.

"Be back at the car in twenty minutes or we're leaving without you." Gargan muttered with a face-full of waffle.

Toomes smirked, eyebrows twitching as he pulled the shearling collar closer around his neck. "No you won't."

The look Gargan gave him told Toomes he was right on the mark. They _could_ leave him there, and Toomes would be all the more grateful for it. He'd gladly take his chances in the chaotic storm of a country in the throes of confusion and loss. Unfortunately Gargan needed a solid venue to crash at, and to keep all of his uncomfortably muscular Russian friends in. Probably use said venue to plan future criminal endeavors and exploit the chaos for his personal gain.

Toomes had the feeling too, that once he lead Gargan to one of the abandoned safe houses, that the man was just going to demand more of him.

Adrian walked out of the Waffle House, grimacing at the glare of the sun. Things could've been worse, of course. It could've been raining, or storming, or gray and miserable out. But Adrian could see the wide blue sky, feel the wind on his face, hear birds call to each other over the deafening silence of a town whose citizens were just as lost as the rest of the world.

Over the weight of the silence, there was an incredible feeling of utter dread. The level of unspeakable terror that had happened in just moments was by all rights so horrific that Adrian was pretty sure he was still in a state of shock.

Planes, helicopters, cars, subways, motorcycles, and trains. More than a few had become traveling death traps, those remaining inside of them left only to panic and die in a helpless, unthinkable scenario.

Focusing on Liz and Doris helped him keep his head on straight – at least for now. _You can't lose it until you have a reason to fucking lose it._ That was his argument. He had told himself he had to keep his shit together until he was absolutely certain that something cataclysmic had happened to his family.

They could still be alive. Doris could still be alive. Liz could still be alive. The only way he was going to get to them was by keeping a cool head and not doing the alternative and finding a nice, warm corner to have an emotional breakdown in. There were some nice corners around here too, and he had half a mind to just find one and hunker down and stay there until Gargan came looking for him. Just to spite the bastard.

He shook the feeling off – or rather, buried it deep down enough to suffocate for a little while. It would well back up, and that sick, awful feeling would creep back into his body. That sick feeling that _what if his baby was in the car with Doris and Doris was just a pile of ashes and all Liz could do was scream when the suddenly driverless car swerved into oncoming traffic._

"Don't do that." He told himself quietly as he crossed the street. Sometimes he just had to say it out loud. "Don't freak yourself out."

He buried that feeling a little deeper. There was a Whole Foods to loot.


	3. Chapter 3

The safehouse is an old, underground storage facility that had been intended for long-term cold storage.

Whatever people needed to store in the cold for the long-term wasn't something Adrian really cared to know about. His first guess would've been bodies. On the bright side, considering how people were conveniently turned to dust instead of dropping dead, no one was going to be using this warehouse anytime soon.

Gargan and his men had set up their living spaces as far apart from each other as possible. Toomes set his space up in a room on the opposite end of the warehouse. Gargan hasn't explicitly said he has to stay, _yet_.

Toomes is sure it's coming. They would've killed him by now if all they really needed was to be lead to a safe house. Whatever Gargan wants him for, he's pretty sure it has something to do with his history. Something told him Mac Gargan wasn't keeping him around for his accounting skills.

Still – who the hell were these guys? Two uncomfortably muscular Russians and a chubby guy that was too quiet for his own good. Adrian didn't recognize the third man, but he'd been able to hot wire an ATM in under five minutes. Not that cash had done them much good. The utter chaos that was still gripping the country had pretty much negated the need for normal societal necessities like paying for things.

Adrian had to admit, just downright stealing stuff instead of stealing some stuff to buy other stuff was a lot less complicated. Upstate New York was a popular spot for hiking, and had an abundance of sporting goods stores to loot along their little ride. He'd made a nice little nest for himself within the stolen camping tent. It was sized for three people, but Adrian was a man who liked his space and privacy. Sing Sing had been a hell on earth, but one that, thankfully, was quickly fading in his mind.

Gargan approached him after a few days of settling in, the familiar and unsettling smirk resting across his face.

"I got a few guys taking stock of the D.O.D.C. vault right now. They're gonna be heading up this way with a few trucks of goods. I need you to start rebuilding that fancy wing rig of yours as soon as they get here. We're gonna need it-"

"Hold on, hold on." Adrian had to laugh despite Gargan's clear displeasure at being interrupted. "Listen, Mason built my wing rigs. He was the genius behind it, alright? I just knew how to f-"

Adrian hadn't been in prison _that_ long to get rusty, so he'll just blame it on his age.

Gargan has a hand around his throat and is shoving him back against the concrete wall before he can even react. His head slams back on the cement twice – then three times, and then he's seeing stars and the room Is probably upside down.

"I'm done taking your fucking attitude!" Gargan snarls. Adrian winces as the man shouts directly into his ear, grimacing. "You will do as you're told, or we'll see how well you can fly without those wings, okay? Do I make myself clear?"

 _Patience. The chance will come. Patience._ Toomes has to recite the mantra over and over until he can bring himself to nod, appearing well cowed by the other man. He shrinks back against the wall, nursing his head once Gargan releases him.

"The world's gone to shit, Toomes. Avengers ain't around, nobody knows what the hell is goin' on – we just got handed the world on a silver platter. I got you out of prison, now it's time to pay me back and be a team player, understand?"

"Sorry – can you speak up?" Adrian puts a hand up to his ear, squinting at Mac, "I'm kind of old."

The punch to the ribs is going to be felt for a solid two weeks at the very least, but he decides it's worth it.

He eventually grunts out that he understands. Gargan then explains his goal to steal various versions of the Iron Man armor. Adrian would tell him to stick that right up his ass, but at the same time – if half of the world vanished, no doubt that meant half of the Avengers as well. If the heavy hitters like Thor or Vision aren't around – hell, even if the littler ones aren't around to cause any trouble – they've got it _made_.

Or whatever Gargan's idea of 'made' is. Adrian personally sees absolutely no reason in accumulating wealth in a world where society is collapsing at a staggering pace. Gargan seems to think that society will eventually rebuild itself – surprisingly optimistic from someone like him. He also seems to think that by stealing Stark's tech, that they can be on top of the criminal food chain once things begin to settle.

Adrian sneers at the thought of being the alpha predator on this criminal Serengeti that Gargan is visualizing. He's much happier watching from afar, and waiting for the path of least resistance.

Still, he knows he has to cooperate for now. Gargan is stronger, younger, and has a large crew of associates at his disposal. All Adrian has on his side is patience. If that's all he can have – then so be it. He'll have to use it to his advantage.

"If you want me to get that wing suit up and running, your boys are going to have to get the plans. Everything from our main headquarters was confiscated during the trial." Adrian grumbles, appearing to grudgingly accept the role that has been dealt to him.

"Not a problem." Gargan mutters, taking a few steps back and watching him keenly. "I'll have my guys sniff out where they stored all your designs."

" _Mason's_ designs."

"I don't give a shit who designed them, I just need them to be rebuilt. I know you ain't as stupid as you pretend to be. You worked with that alien shit for eight years and you expect me to buy that you never once learned how to put a few wires together? You'll figure it out. Aleksei and Otto will lend you a hand, Toomes – but I expect that wing harness to be up and running, and a few guns would be nice too. My boys are hauling up enough goods from the D.O.D.C. vault to give you all the kibbles n' bits you need."

Adrian eyes him warily, face half buried in the thick shearling collar of his jacket. He glances down, trying to appear as if he's conflicted about something. Gargan catches on, frowning at him.

"What is it?" He fumes, left hand curling into a fist.

"...How much Stark tech am I taking away from this job for myself?" He grumbles, glaring at Gargan.

A grin comes to the man's lips and he nods, chuckling. "I knew it – I knew you'd be a team player. You stuck it to Stark for almost a decade – I knew I could count on you!"

His jovial tone can't mask what Adrian full well knows – there's a knife just waiting to find his back as long as Gargan is around. He has to tread as carefully as he can, and play the role of a greedy ex-arms baron. Gargan had no idea who he was, or that he had any plans to reunite with his family. During their time in prison together, Gargan had never asked about them, and Toomes figured that a man like him probably didn't put much stock in his relatives.

* * *

Adrian spends the next two weeks well away from the others as often as he can. Aleksei is the only one he occasionally allows into his space. The muscle-bound man seems to struggle with his english, but breaks into fluent Russian around Sergei. While they wait for Gargan's men to bring the trucks up from the vault, Aleksei seems to be the most restless of them.

It's five times now he's wandered toward Toomes, standing just within his peripheral vision. Adrian has to acknowledge him before he speaks. Frankly he finds it creepy, Aleksei just waiting there to be addressed, staring at him while he works.

Adrian had begun the cathartic past time of copper wire theft. He'd need the wires for his wing harness once the parts arrived, and he knew enough to at least splice the wires together so they could fit the length of the frame.

He knew Aleksei had been watching him splice the same cable for almost six minutes now. Eventually Adrian gives in and sets the wire down on his work station, turning to the man.

"What's up?"

"What you doing?" Aleksei asks, pointing to the lengths of copper wiring.

"Just splicing – uh, putting two wires together. They need to be pretty long throughout the wings to pass signals to the receivers at the ends."

Aleksei grunts, and just stares at the mess of wires, cutters and pliers. Adrian stares at him in return, and soon a heavy, awkward silence falls over the pair.

"...You uh...got any hobbies, Aleksei?" Adrian finally asks, resting an elbow on the table.

Aleksei shrugs, glancing down. "Exercise. Reading – but, not many books in Russian here. I can read English but it's hard, takes longer than what I already know."

Aleksei strikes Adrian as the type who was just on the wrong side of the tracks most of his life and never got a good opportunity. The type that had to accept that there was one life for them, even if it wasn't the one they'd wanted. It made Adrian a bit sad, even at his age, to see people who had never been given their fair shake.

He'd felt as much for most of his life. Life was nothing but one hurdle after another for the poor and hard working. He missed Doris, and he missed Liz – but he knew that if he hadn't done what needed to be done, Liz never would've been given the opportunities that her education provided her.

At times Adrian would think if he'd do it all over again, knowing that he'd wind up mixed up with criminals and murderers (himself one now as well). He'd decided during several occasions where the question had popped back up in the back of his head; yes. He knew Liz would be strong, Liz would recover and she'd still be as smart as she was before everything went to shit. Liz might not _forgive_ him for what he'd done, sure – but when she was older she'd understand. Even if he wasn't completely sure that was true, he had to at least convince himself from time to time.

 _If she's even still alive._

Adrian sighed, glancing back up at Aleksei. He needed a distraction, badly.

"C'mere, I'll show you how to splice these."

Aleksei looks at him, confused, but steps up to the work desk and listens. As Adrian talks, occasionally looking over at Aleksei to check if he appears to be understanding, he catches a brief glimpse of a tattoo on the man's shoulder.

"Whassat' there?"

Aleksei looks over to the tattoo, pulling the strap of his wifebeater down a little further and turning his shoulder toward Adrian.

"Rhino."

"Why a Rhino?"

"Nickname in prison. Rhino." Aleksei answers simply. While Adrian would like an elaboration, possibly a backstory to that, he figures Aleksei isn't the type to go into too much detail. But, he considers himself a simple man too, he can respect that.


	4. Chapter 4

It's almost two more weeks by the time Gargan's men arrive with literal semi-trucks full of goods they'd looted from the Damage Control vault. Remarkably, they manage to bring most, if not _all_ of the notes and designs that Mason had put together at their main headquarters. Adrian hopes that these notes aren't all that's left of Mason, but, there's a chance they probably are.

The quiet, pudgy one that had been with them since Sing Sing approaches Adrian. His shoulders are slumped and he stares at the floor most of the time. Not that Toomes was an expert, but he figures this poor dough ball of a man must've had one shitty time in prison.

"M'Otto." The man mutters, glancing up at Toomes. He's young, must be in his late 20's at the most. "Mac wants me to help you build your wingsuit."

Toomes shrugs, pointing back to the blueprints and design notes all stacked up near his work desk.

"Mason and I came up with the basic stuff together but the nitty-gritty of the technicals were all him." Adrian says, gesturing to a large schematic of the intricate merging of circuitry and technology. Otto gives it a quick glance, then looks back at Adrian. The kid (anyone under 30 is officially 'kid' to Adrian) looks so damn _sad_ to even be here. Adrian has to wonder if he's having his arm twisted by Gargan as well – it wouldn't necessarily surprise him.

"Haven't worked with Chitauri tech before." Otto says quietly, looking over at the enormous pile that's been assembled for him to work from.

"But you're good with machines or something?"

Otto gives Adrian an annoyed look, surprising him.

"Better than whoever designed your last wingsuit was." Otto snorts, then moves to the stack of papers and schematics, laying several out on the table.

Adrian hovers nearby, watching Otto go through Mason's notes and designs, tossing a few of the preliminary design concepts off the desk and letting them float down to the floor.

"I need welding equipment. Oxy-fuel, ESW, maybe ERW. Do you know what those letters mean?" Otto asks, no small hint of arrogance in his voice.

"Uh, yeah, I know what the letters mean." Adrian sneers back at him. Never mind, he doesn't feel bad for the kid.

"Then hurry up. Gargan wants this thing built in two weeks."

Otto gives Adrian a dismissive wave of his hand before turning back to his papers. Rolling his eyes, Adrian turns and makes his way out of the warehouse. At least fetching supplies will keep him busy and occupied – and away from Gargan for a few hours.

* * *

Gargan had been steaming for days. Otto was taking longer than the two weeks he'd demanded. In turn, Otto had argued that good work took time. It surprised Adrian to see the chubby young man shout at Gargan and get away with it. Not a slap or a punch or a threatening word in retaliation. Gargan just swallowed his pride and stormed off.

 _That_ was strange. Gargan didn't strike him as someone who was easily intimidated, let alone by a guy with an embarrassing haircut that was under 5'5".

Toomes had watched from his own private corner, sitting on a lawn chair he'd swiped during his pick up of Otto's welding equipment. Adrian found himself more tired these days – of course, he blamed most of that on age. He was old, and just getting older.

Somehow this felt different though. This wasn't just his knees and his back getting to him, this was something more. Getting up every morning seemed pointless. Food lost its appeal, as did going outside and the fresh air. Focusing on his own projects got harder every day, and soon he'd given up on them. Otto had snatched up the talons later on anyway and tossed them out, saying he was going to invent better ones.

The only thing that kept him remotely invested in putting effort forth was helping Aleksei from time to time with his english. The man seemed genuinely grateful. Unfortunately it didn't stop everything else from just growing darker.

The world somehow seemed grayer and just being in it was exhausting. The reality that either Doris or Liz, or both, were dead was finally sinking in. Even if they weren't, were they surviving the chaos that the world had fallen into when half of its population had vanished? So many 'what if's' spun around in his head constantly that there wasn't space in his head for much else.

Adrian was laying face down in his tent, the flap zippered shut. He wasn't asleep, but he had decided that today was a day that he didn't want to get up. He'd been laying there for what felt like three hours at the most, and had no plans on moving anytime soon.

"Vulture man!" Aleksei's voice boomed from outside of the tent. "Come see wings!"

Fuck wings. And fuck Gargan for putting a leash on him.

Adrian let his train of thought go in that direction for a solid five minutes, completely blocking out Aleksei. The man was getting louder and louder, shaking his tent, but Adrian just ignored it. Aleksei tended to leave him alone when his moods turned south, so Adrian was sure he could just wait this one out.

Seven minutes later, thrown over the shoulder of a seven foot Russian, Adrian came to the conclusion that this was only _slightly_ more humiliating than having a hand-written 'Found' note taped next to him by a high schooler.

Toomes said nothing. All he could do was just stare at the ground as Aleksei carried him up the stairs to the back of the warehouse. He sighed loudly, but that was the most he was going to voice his displeasure. Aleksei must've noticed it, and gave him a pat on the leg.

"You will feel better when you see wings, vulture man."

"It's Adrian." He grumbled, letting his arms hang down.

"Vulture man." Aleksei insists.

A few moments later, Adrian is set down on the concrete and Aleksei grabs him by the shoulders and turns him around to see the completed wings.

Otto was an arrogant, whining, mean-spirited little shit – but Adrian couldn't find it within himself to hold that against him anymore.

What the kid had built was incredible. The wings matched Mason's high altitude design in size, but with several obvious changes. The thruster engine on the back was significantly smaller, and the turbine cages were thicker. Red and green positioning lights had been placed on the tip of the left and right wing respectively, along with several smaller lights that had been set near the base of each wing, near where Adrian's shoulders would be.

Individual blades stuck out near the ends of each wing, shaped suspiciously like the primary feathers of a vulture's wings. Mason had designed those as well, but these were longer and curved upward at the end.

The nickname must've really stuck. Well, there were worse nicknames than 'Vulture' Toomes supposed.

Adrian approached one of them, staring up at the sleek surface along the interior. Small, black hexagonal tiles had been attached up along the interiors and exteriors of the wings, like some kind of solar grid. He looked over at Otto, then pointed up at the tiles.

"What're those?"

Otto glanced at him, then nodded at the tiles. "Countermeasures. They aren't Chitauri or Stark tech. I designed them. In case anyone tries to take you out of the air with a missile or something."

Adrian snorted, walking over the flight harness and stepping back into it to try it on.

"So Gargan is expecting missile encounters for this job of his?" Adrian asked, strapping himself into the new harness. It was strange, and certainly not as comfortable as the last one. He'd been using the old flight harness for years, this new one would take time getting used to.

"Even if Stark's not home, doesn't mean his lights aren't on. The guy probably has a security system in place for pollen that gets too close to his windows." Otto sneered, walking over to Adrian and helping him strap the harness on correctly. "You aren't gonna hear any noise from the turbines anymore. I installed a sound dampening ring on each one, so no one's gonna hear you when you go over them."

Adrian raised a brow. That was impressive, he had to admit. He didn't think he'd find someone as good with machines as Mason. It wasn't a surprise that Otto reminded him of his former inventor. They were both brilliant, but with Mason, he'd always been hindered by his laziness. The man was content leading a simple, mundane life working for Toomes instead of pushing himself to achieve greater things. Adrian didn't blame him for wanting a simple life, but it was still obvious that Mason could've put his skills and talents to so much more.

Not that Adrian wasn't glad he didn't.

"How long's she gonna take to warm up?" Adrian asked, raising his arms and allowing Otto to tighten the flight harness around his chest.

"Bout five minutes, give or take." Otto responded. The man strapped Adrian's legs into a new exoskeleton, which was much sleeker and streamline than Mason's old designs. The kid had a flair for aesthetics if nothing else. Adrian just hoped these could absorb the shock like the last ones. One bad landing and his knees would be permanently out of commission.

"I'm still getting the auto-lock fixed on those. Once I get your measurements I can custom fit them to your legs, and then I'll install the locks so you can just step right into them."

"Hey," Adrian snorted, shrugging, "I'm impressed already kid, don't sweat it."

He looked up and over at the various lights that had been installed on the wings.

"Can I shut those off somehow?" He asked, pointing to one of the position lights on the tip of his left wing.

"Yeah. Those are just so we can see you for pickups. Gargan wants you to air lift the most important stuff out of the Avengers compound. He's gonna brief you on the details." Otto picked up a pair of black gloves from nearby and handed them to Adrian.

"Left hand is for lights, talons and countermeasures. Right hand is main thrusters and high-altitude mode. Don't use that last one yet. If the raid on the compound goes right, the tech we grab from there will have what I need to make you a pressure suit so you can deal with higher altitudes."

" _Higher_?" Adrian asks, scoffing. "That Stark jet job was around 35,000 feet. Why would I need to go higher than that?"

"Why not?" Otto asks, shrugging. "I can design the gear you'd need for it. Imagine the advantage you'd have, just on height alone."

"I'm pretty sure Iron Man and Thor can still out-fly me regardless of how high this thing can go."

"Well I don't see them around." Otto snaps, glaring at him. "Do you? Who do you see around anymore? Nobody. Whatever happened, it's been almost a month and a half and nothing's changed. Iron Man, Thor, Falcon, War Machine, nobody's seen them around – and if they have, it isn't around here. Put those gloves on and start practicing so you don't accidentally mix up your landing lights with your position lights and blind us all."

Adrian pulls the gloves on without further argument. Otto backs up and gives him directions on how to activate the turbines, the main thrust engines, how to perform a low hover without too much backwash, all the good stuff. Low-hover mode is quickly becoming his favorite thing about the wings. The last ones had been able to hover, sure, but not just a few feet above the ground for prolonged periods of time.

The turbines are as quiet as Otto boasts. They take a few minutes to warm up, but once Adrian feels the wings actively beginning to rise up, he tilts forward and lets them take over. They detach easily from the makeshift support rig that Otto had slapped together, and he hovers forward.

Aleksei offers him some light applause as he hovers around the parking lot. Adrian can see Mac and the other Russian – Sergei somethingsomething standing near the warehouse entrance, watching him. The gloves are built with sensors along each finger that link up to the wings and their operations. He just has to curl a finger and it activates the desired action.

 _Let's see what the middle finger does._

Adrian tilts the wings so that he's facing Gargan from a distance. He curls his middle finger and can feel the sensor clicking inside of the glove. The blinding landing lights switch on, illuminating the area in front of him. He can hear Gargan shouting in surprise and pain as he covers his eyes and screams at Toomes to shut them off. Grudgingly he complies, but just seeing Gargan rapidly blinking and attempting to wobble his way back into the warehouse has made Adrian's day.

"Oops!" Adrian calls after him, "Sorry about that!"

Sergei yells at him in Russian but he just ignores it, and activates the main thruster engine for a rapid take off. The turbines tilt in response as he leans forward, and he sweeps over the parking lot, flying over Aleksei and Otto. He flies over the trees that surround the warehouse, looking forward as he scans the horizon.

Adrian knows he can't go up too high without a mask, but even being above the tree line is freeing. It helps distract him for a while from obsessing over Doris and Liz. The cold air hitting his face at rapid speeds causes his eyes to tear up, and he has to squint hard without anything to protect them. Still, just feeling the clean, fresh air above the pines is invigorating. It was a smell he'd forgotten that he'd even missed.

He flies a bit higher – as high as he'll dare without a mask. It's getting hard to breathe, but he risks it just for a chance to be away from Gargan for a while. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed being up in the air. It was something he'd begun to take for granted until it was taken from him.

Radio static sounding from tiny, hidden speakers on the flight harness draw his attention.

"Might want to come back and land, Toomes. Gargan had me build a kill-switch into those in case you might try to fly off."

Adrian banked right, returning to the warehouse and circling it a few times. He could see Gargan, Otto, Aleksei and Sergei all watching him from the parking lot. He circled a few more times, making lazy loops in the air. If nothing else, just to get an unimpeded view of the multicolored sunset.

 _There's a reason to stick around._ Something as simple as a good sunset, or a cold beer. He had to find a reason to keep living. Even if those reasons were as mundane as a vivid evening sky or food that he enjoyed, he had to find _something_. Adrian Toomes was a fighter. He refused to roll over back when Damage Control put him out of business. He refused to accept that Doris and Liz would have to live any way that wasn't the best life they deserved. He had to refuse giving in to despair now, he couldn't accept giving up any longer.

 _Doris and Liz are probably dead._ Yes, they probably were. But what if they weren't? What if one of them was still alive? A voice pushed back at the utter despair that had been invading his mind for the last week. _You don't know until you know._

Adrian landed. It was much easier on his body with the new turbines. They guided him into a slow hover so he could slide across the pavement until he was ready for a complete halt. He'd have to talk to Otto about the exo-legs, they weren't taking the shock they needed to.

As Aleksei and Otto helped him out of the flight harness, Adrian let his mind wander. He had to make a plan and wait until the time was right. Step one would be to find and deactivate the kill switch on his wings. A backup plan would have to be to cozy up to Otto and get the kid on his side. He didn't know what kind of relationship Otto had with Gargan, but something told him they weren't cooperating out of a mutual respect for one and other.

Once that kill switch was deactivated, he just had to wait until the time was right to escape, and not just jump the gun and fly off as soon as he could. Things were clicking together in Adrian's mind, he just had to wait. If he had learned one thing in life, it was that laying low and just being patient for the right opportunity yielded the best results.

Aleksei offered him a high five, which Adrian awkwardly returned. Otto was already fiddling with the wings, having made notes during Adrian's flight. He was quick at work to fix anything he'd seen that he wasn't completely happy with.

Turning back to walk into the warehouse, Adrian paused as Gargan approached him.

"Otto does a good job, don't he?" He asked, looking past Adrian to the younger man as he fiddled with the wings.

"Almost too good. Where the hell did you find this kid?"

Gargan shrugged, smirking at him. "For me to know and you to find out. Once Otto finishes fooling around with those, we're gonna have a briefing. We gotta hit the Avengers compound soon, but I need you to do a little recon work for me first. Just so we don't go in there with our asses hanging in the breeze."

"Fine." Adrian snaps back, settling his thumbs into his belt loops. "But then we're going to discuss what kind of cut I'm getting of Stark's equipment. I'm not doing recon work and heavy lifting or whatever the hell else for a handful arc reactors, got that?"

Gargan raises his hands to try and pacify the other, shaking his head. "Hey man, hey – you'll get your cut, don't worry. We're all gonna get what we want out of there, got it?"

Adrian gives him a critical look, snorting quietly. "I'd better. If that spider-kid hadn't crashed the damn plane, I would've been sitting on most of that tech already."

"But he did." Gargan chuckled, "And now you get to finish part of what you started, huh? Who knows, you might just be sitting on twice of what that plane was carrying."

Adrian quirks an eyebrow at that, tilting his head. He gives Gargan a look that reads _You might have a point there_ and walks back into the warehouse.

While he was planning and preparing for his inevitable escape from Gargan, Adrian had to be honest with himself. It was going to feel so damn good to stick it to Tony Stark. Even if the man was already dead, for all he knew. Adrian wasn't a man above petty vengeance.


	5. Chapter 5

Adrian circled the Avengers compound lazily. Gargan and told him, very firmly (and repeatedly) to wait for his call.

Wait for the call.

 _Fine_. He would wait. Adrian had been waiting for almost an hour at this point and was beginning to grow drowsy.

Gargan was a shockingly excellent tactician and planner. He'd given Adrian, Otto, Aleksei and Sergei a briefing that was well planned and concrete. Adrian had to wonder what other kind of surprise expertise Gargan had hidden away in that brain of his. Someone didn't plan, coordinate and lead a five man heist without having cut their teeth on something just as big or bigger first.

Of course, if things went wrong Adrian couldn't exactly blame it on Gargan either. They were a five man team going into a compound guarded by a group of experienced and extremely loyal ex-SHIELD personnel.

Gargan and Aleksei were taking point, with Sergei well hidden in the nearby woods and providing sniper cover. Otto was in the truck they had driven there, priming a series of explosives that Sergei had placed around the compound earlier that evening. The first initial round of explosions had drawn around 10 Avengers personnel. Each ended up being summarily gunned down by Sergei, while Adrian watched from the darkening sky overhead.

Sergei Kravinoff seemed to draw a fair amount of both respect and admiration from Gargan, and seemed to have a mild friendliness with Aleksei. Adrian hadn't spoken to him much, and Otto didn't know him at all. The Russian couldn't have been that old. Older than Gargan but younger than Adrian, perhaps in his mid to late 40's if Toomes had to guess. He was tall and athletic, but not the pure wall of muscle that Aleksei was. The man was fiercely attached to his sniper rifle, and had a necklace of teeth that he claimed were from the ten different types of rare game he'd gunned down. Adrian wanted to ask what had drawn him away from his hunting hobby, but the way Kravinoff seemed to relish in rushing off into the woods to make his sniper's den, he wasn't sure he really wanted to find out.

As Adrian circled the compound, he wore a makeshift breathing mask and goggles that Otto had rigged up for him. He couldn't see as well as he could in his old helmet, but it wasn't too much of a hindrance. He knew each little red shape that was quickly winding its way toward the explosion was an Avengers compound guard. He knew when the little red shapes turned blue, that Sergei had dispatched them with a ridiculous amount of ease.

Adrian didn't feel terribly sorry for the personnel that had remained on the compound. No doubt they were hoping, praying, that their Avengers would return. Or maybe they were just so loyal that they wouldn't abandon their post knowing the kinds of technology and raw materials were within the warehouse they were guarding.

Specifically, guarding against people like Adrian, Gargan and Otto.

Well, they chose to stay, he figured. This was just business. It was just business burying Pedro under that roof – even if the little brat did fish his way out. It was just business manufacturing the weapons for nearly a decade. He wasn't ashamed of what he had to do to get what he needed. Right now, he needed this mission to go smoothly so he could get back to base alive. If that meant about two dozen of the Avenger's rank and file had to be put down, so be it.

Hell, he would've told them it wasn't personal if he could. _He_ didn't install the kill switch in his wings, otherwise he'd be halfway to Kansas by now.

Adrian yawned, stretching his arms. The new wings had almost no drag or chop while he was up in the air, and it made circling the compound all the more boring.

A second round of explosions tore through the warehouse entrance, blasting it apart. That brought Adrian out of his boredom quickly, and he narrowed his eyes for any sign of Gargan.

Nothing yet.

' _This is Scorpion_ ,' Gargan's voice sounded through his earpiece. Adrian rolled his eyes. He had almost forgotten about the nicknames. Lucky him. Oh – sorry, 'call signs'.

' _Got six left. They've holed themselves up in the lounge room. Can't get to them without going down a hall and we'll get shot to bits._ '

 _'This is Doc. Just throw your last strip of explosives down the hall, I'll set it off remotely. Hunter already took care of the warehouse guards.'_

A few seconds passed, then Gargan's voice came back over the comm. _Explosives are down the hall, me and Rhino are on our way out. Blow them in 30 seconds.'_

Otto confirmed the orders, and Adrian began to descend. Now that the guards were taken care of, he didn't have to fear anyone spotting him by pure luck in the dead of night and getting a few shots off.

Sergei's rough, low voice came in over the comm. _'Hunter moving to warehouse to begin first extraction.'_

The others radioed their acknowledgment, followed a few seconds later by one final explosion in the middle of the compound. Flames rose up and out through the ceiling, burying the last of the Avengers personnel that had fought the good fight.

Adrian steered around the sudden plume of burning air, avoiding it easily as he continued to circle. He could see Sergei below, breaking the glass case of a fire extinguisher mounted on the outer warehouse wall. The man quickly put out the flames left over on the doors, and stepped inside. Otto's voice sounded out on the comm once more.

 _'Hurry it up. Picked up comm chatter before the last explosion – backup personnel are on their way.'_

 _'How many?'_ Gargan asked. Adrian could see him and Aleksei now running across the field of dead bodies, courtesy of Sergei. They stepped over them quickly, both armed to the teeth with guns they'd snatched up from the dead.

 _'About thirty. They're twenty minutes out, coming up the road.'_

 _'Vulture,'_ Gargan snarled, ' _Get as many crates as you can to the truck in fifteen. The last crate is the arc reactors, air lift that out and avoid combat. Doc, get the explosive strips ready for our friends. Rhino, get back to the truck and get the crates on board as Vulture brings them down. Hunter, haul as many out as you can. Move.'_

Gargan may have been a murderous sociopath but he was a murderous sociopath who could hold a team together.

Toomes flew lower, slowing his descent and activating the positioning lights on his wings. Sergei had shot the exterior lights of the compound out before the raid began. It was nearly pitch black save for the glow coming from distant fires.

Kraven had wheeled out two crates already for Adrian to pick up. Both were still emblazoned with the old SHIELD logo. Whatever it was, it must've been before the whole Triskelion mess. Otto had been very specific concerning what they needed to bring out, the only issue was if Sergei and Gargan could actually find what he wanted in the time allowed.

The new talons were more curved, and they pierced right through the thick material of the SHIELD crate. Adrian could feel the engine strain slightly as he forced himself to ascend. Whatever it was, it must've been heavy. _Really_ heavy. The gears within the exo-legs whirred in annoyance at being strained so hard, but Toomes ignored it. With a bit more fighting, the crate finally rose off the ground and was ferried off.

Sergei waited by the semi truck they'd taken up there. A flatbed dolly was next to him, with a pair of ramps extended out from the interior of the semi. Raising his arms and gesturing to Adrian, Sergei helped him lower the crate onto the flatbed perfectly. As he turned to push it up into the semi, Adrian was already flying off to retrieve another.

After this back and forth nearly six times, Gargan finally waved his hand at Adrian and pointed to the final crate.

 _'Grab these and get back to the warehouse!'_ Gargan shouted over the comm before turning and signaling Sergei to retreat. The two men made a break for it across the open grounds, racing back to the semi.

Adrian ascended with the final crate, a lifetime supply of arc reactors clutched in his talons. As he rose higher up and into the darkness, deactivating the lights at the ends of his wings, he felt a memory hit him.

The beach, the stink of burning wires and scorched metal, the lights of the amusement park through the heavy smoke left from the crash. He could hear the ringing in his ears again, and feel the awful jerks and shakes his wingsuit had given him while it struggled to keep him aloft. Of course, the kid too.

Oh, Pedro. He had to hand it to him, the kid did him a solid. Not too often someone you actively try to force into a jet turbine ends up saving your life from under three hundred pounds of sizzling irony.

Adrian wondered if the kid was still alive. He hoped he was, in all truth. He knew the kid was just trying to be like his hero, just trying to do the boyscout version of the 'right thing to do'. Pedro didn't know any better. Not yet, anyway. There were plenty of growing pains in store for Peter Parker, this much Adrian knew. The kid would have to learn the hard way that, just because _you_ treat others fairly, doesn't mean the rest of the world will return the favor.

Of course, he could've been turned to dust along with the rest of them, for all Adrian knew. But he hoped he hadn't.

A stream of lights drew Adrian's attention down to the road far below him. It looked like a glowing caterpillar, slowly weaving its way around the broad curves of the road to the compound. They wouldn't be able to see him up this high with the naked eye, and Adrian was sure they were more preoccupied with the threat ahead of them.

He didn't turn to see if Otto's road explosives had gone off, nor did he turn to see if they needed any further assistance. Gargan had been adamant that if nothing else, to get the arc reactors back to the warehouse. They would abandon the rest if they were forced to, but the arc reactors were the real meat of the mission.

It took him nearly a half hour to reach their warehouse. He didn't risk pushing top speed, even though the talons were sunken in deep to the crate walls. Adrian wouldn't risk losing an entire crate of arc reactors a second time around.

The huge empty parking lot was a welcome sight as he slowly descended. He could feel the resistance against his back as the turbines shifted to provide a purely vertical landing. Adrian released the crate once it was firmly on the ground, and flew back to the wing rig. Otto had made the final adjustments to the exo-legs, and now once the wings were in their supports, the legs cleanly opened along the front so he could step out.

Unstrapping the flight harness was another beast all together, but Adrian had to admit, he did feel a bit safer being strapped up tighter, and it was less stress on his body. The peace of mind however came at a price, he couldn't detach like he'd been able to with the last pair – once the wings were on, they were on until he was done for the day.

Finally out of the flight harness and exo-legs, Adrian stretched and walked around the parking lot a few times to enjoy the cool night air. If everything had gone according to plan, they'd be back in an hour or two, he figured. Briefly he thought to look for the kill switch during that time, but it was too dark, and he was already feeling tired from the late hour. Better to fiddle around with something like that with a sharp mind and good lighting.

He dozed off against the arc-reactor crate. That also brought back memories of Parker tugging him along the beach and planting him there, fixing him to the crates with his webbing.

 _'Hey , don't run off okay.'_ He'd said. Little shit.

The rumble of a semi engine brought him out of his half-nap. Pushing himself up, Adrian watched as the truck rolled into the parking lot. Gargan, Otto and Aleksei cheered and jumped out, fist pumping and high fiving and all the other embarrassing things grown men did when things went really, _really_ well.

Kravinoff was completely stoic, sliding out of the semi cab with his drag bag. The man grumbled something in Russian and walked back into the warehouse.

"Top of the food chain now, baby!" Gargan shouted, whooping loudly as he ran to the back of the semi to open the doors.

Adrian watched him with mild amusement, then turned his head away, yawning. Well, he'd done his part. Sleep was calling and he was glad to answer. One spine-crushing bear hug from Aleksei later, Adrian was hobbling into his tent and zipping the flap shut behind him.

He was relieved the heist had gone off without issues. The happier Gargan was, the easier it made things for Adrian. Still, even with the success, escape was firmly in the back of his mind. He was getting roped in tighter and tighter into their five-man band, and he didn't like it. Adrian knew he had to keep waiting and bide his time, but every day felt like he was moving further and further away from ever getting free.


	6. Chapter 6

Adrian shares a long side-eye with Aleksei. The two have become masters of sharing looks now that they've been drafted to help Otto complete his own 'project'. The 'project' entails four enormous tentacle-like appendages that are going to be connected directly to his brain waves through some kind of fancy helmet he's made.

Gargan and Sergei are on the other side of the work station, both struggling to support the second of the two tentacles that Otto is attaching. Both appendages are being welded and spliced onto a back rig that Otto is seated in front of. Nearby, a helmet, half completed with sensors running up and down the interior, sits in waiting. The stolen Stark tech from the Avengers compound has put Otto on a tear. The young man has been working nonstop, with barely a break in between to sleep or eat, for nearly a week now.

Adrian is impressed, and wishes he'd had Otto alongside Mason back in the day.

 _Well..._ He pauses at that. There was only so much of Mason he could take over a twenty four hour period. Lord knows how he'd stand them, who was like Mason but smarter and meaner.

"Hold it higher!" Otto barks from his crouched position over the back piece. His voice is muffled slightly by the welding mask over his face.

Aleksei sighs and heaves the stiff metal limb a few inches higher. Adrian has been holding the limb steady while Aleksei does the majority of the heavy work. Even with the much stronger man taking on most of the weight of the limb, it's still a struggle on Adrian's part.

Otto turned away and went back to finishing the rest of the welds. Wires are connected and metal bits soldered into place. Finally after nearly another half hour of uncomfortable shifting and quiet complaints, Otto stands up and gives a nod.

As they release the limbs, the mechanical arms dip slightly from the removal of their support. Adrian quietly grimaces as he stares at them, expecting the metal to buckle and for the arms to collapse. However, they did no such thing, adhered securely to the back plates.

"Leave, I need to conduct more tests." Otto grumbles, going back to his work station.

His mood was always sour, and they'd all gotten used to it. Besides, Otto had already begun preliminary work on a suit for Aleksei, as well as some kind of arm thing for Gargan. He'd tried to persuade Sergei into letting him make something for him, but the proud Russian had repeatedly refused.

Since the first raid on the Avengers compound, Gargan had sent Adrian and Sergei back for several more retrieval rounds. After their third visit, there were no more personnel left to deal with. The few left alive that Sergei hadn't killed had high tailed it out of there when they realized just how outclassed they were. Adrian admittedly had snatched a few up and given them a long drop, but only when they fired at him. He didn't feel very bad about it. Hadn't felt bad about roasting Jackson either.

It gave Adrian pause sometimes to think, he probably _should_ feel bad about killing another human being. No doubt the weapons he'd sold had gone on to end a few lives. _Probably more than a few._ Somehow though, unless those lives were people he cared about within his inner circle, he just couldn't bring himself to give too much of a shit.

Plus, these guys were shooting at him. That was all the justification he felt he needed to practice his dive bombs and snatch them up for a quick trip back to ground level.

After the numerous trips back and forth, they had all but raided the entire Avengers warehouse. The amount of crates and goods they'd filled their base with was rapidly encroaching into their living and work space.

Adrian spent most of his days in his wings, moving stock for Otto and letting the younger man bark at him. He didn't care much really, he wasn't the type to let his ego get in the way of being a team player when he had to be.

Aleksei had gotten the better of him. Adrian found himself developing a soft spot for the giant of a man. They were quick to pair up when it come to food or fuel runs. Adrian would fly into town, letting Aleksei hitch a ride on his back. After nearly a week of Aleksei staring at him with a heartbroken expression, Otto had caved and installed a small pair of straps on the top of Adrian's wing harness. It allowed for someone to hang onto the back without having to clutch metal.

The man was having the time of his life thanks to those straps. Aleksei's joy was a little contagious. Adrian wasn't much for 'happy' those days, but the other man's genuine happiness at just being allowed to fly with him brought the occasional grin to Adrian's face.

Said grin was on Adrian's face on a cool Thursday night that week as he flew a few feet above a highway. They'd been over this highway several times, coming across an abandoned car here and there. All the vehicles left on the road had already been pilfered for fuel, and Adrian lazily flew past them with disinterest.

Their goal that night was New Paltz. The college town had become somewhat of a haven for people that were trying to get away from New York City. From what Gargan had picked up over radio chatter between the sad remaining fragments of law enforcement was this; New York City was considered a total loss. From the initial panic that swept the city and the deadlock of the city streets thanks to a multitude of driverless cars, to the long term looting and outbreaks of violence, it was the last place any sane person wanted to be.

Which was exactly why Gargan was planning on moving them right smack into the old Avenger's tower.

Top of the criminal food chain and all that, he figured. Once Otto had finished up all of their new gear, Gargan said they'd be unstoppable in claiming that tower for their base of operations for criminal enterprise. Was it really criminal if technically no one was around to enforce the law? Why would Gargan want the biggest, most obvious, grandiose, over the top, vulgar building in all of the New York skyline? Adrian didn't care to ask.

Nope.

His (and Aleksei's) job was to gather fuel. Fuel they were going to need for the trucks to transport all the ridiculous amounts of technology they'd stolen from the Avengers compound. Gargan wanted him to gather diesel fuel, which had become increasingly rare and well guarded by hoarders and remaining law enforcement alike. Adrian felt more like an errand boy than an ex arms baron.

Despite Gargan's over the top ambitions of becoming some kind of crime lord in the heart of NYC, Adrian felt that returning to the city would be a good thing. The violence there had been described as 'epidemic' and 'gargantuan'. With some luck, going back to NYC might just take care of Gargan all on its own.

New Paltz came into view, nestled in some of the most scenic hills and mountains upstate New York could provide. Well, it wasn't ithat/i upstate, but it was north enough of the city to qualify.

Adrian could see lights on in a few buildings. Rolling blackouts had become a regular occurrence within the last month. Luckily for them, Adrian and Otto had found a way to rig up the power supply to the warehouse to a few Chitauri power cores. The rest of the world still desperately hooked up to the failing power grid wasn't so lucky.

"Circle round up high, I will look for diesel stash." Aleksei spoke into his tiny comm device.

Adrian gave a nod, ascending over the top of the tallest of New Paltz's buildings, which was less than 10 stories. He pressed a small switch on the back of his helmet, activating a 'tactical view' that brought up a more advanced, detailed HUD than his previous helmet. He had to hand it to Otto, the kid could slap together some fascinating tech.

"Stay away from bullets!" Aleksei added as they went higher.

Adrian had to chuckle at that one. Already a few pops were sounding out from the top floors of several buildings that he passed by. People were always taking pot shots at them whenever he flew into town for a raid, not that it did them any good.

He continued to circle around the town as Aleksei peeked out from behind his head with binoculars. Now and then he'd bring a wing up when they got close to a tall building. Only once or twice were the shooters good enough to hit a quickly moving aerial target. Their luck or skill was in vain unfortunately, and the few bullets that reached Adrian harmlessly bounced off the wing.

"I see stash! Under blue tarp, hidden by awning on hospital building."

Aleksei pointed over Adrian's shoulder, guiding his line of sight until he spotted the tarp. Nearly fifty drums of fuel were hidden beneath it. It wasn't as much as Adrian had hoped – the fuel consumption on semis was ten kinds of ridiculous – but it was enough to at least get two back to the city for now.

"Get yourself ready and I'll drop you down. I'll keep 'em busy while you get the net on." Adrian called back to him.

Aleksei nodded, hanging onto a strap with one hand, preparing the rifle he'd brought with him with the other. He closed his eyes, pressing himself close against the metal wings as Adrian went into a dive.

It was sudden, fast, and caused both their stomachs to rise up into their chests. Adrian loved the feeling, it never got old for him. At his speeds, the dive only took a few seconds. He stalled at the last moment, turbines tilting to compensate for the sudden stop.

As soon as he felt Aleksei's weight leave his back, Adrian shot back into the sky with a rapid vertical ascent. His goal now was to keep the gunners distracted and away from Aleksei and wait for the other man to get everything prepared.

He'd be lying if he didn't enjoy this a little too much for his own good. The wings were hardy, and could slice through concrete just as well as Mason's could. He circled the nearby buildings a few times, drawing fire to him. Swinging his wings forward as he dove toward the tallest of the buildings, the satisfying sound of ricocheting bullets was like music to his ears.

Concrete exploded outward and sheet glass shattered into enormous chunks as he ran a wing through the side of the building. Several gunners that had been perched on the same floor dove out of the way, shouting in fear and surprise. Adrian tore a long gash through the west facing side of the former hospital administrative center. As he finished and banked to the right, he glanced to the end of his wing. His HUD briefly flashed on a large chunk of 'organic material' that had been caught on the end of a blade feather.

Adrian smirked. Served them right.

Briefly glancing down at Aleksei, he saw that the man was being pinned down by several cops that had come out to defend the precious diesel. That wouldn't do.

He broke into a dive, the ground fast approaching as he swooped toward the trio. Aleksei was pinned back behind a cement pillar that supported the awning, and the cops were being careful not to fire toward the diesel. With the three of them taking turns to fire and reload, Aleksei didn't have a moment to return fire.

Only one cop spotted Adrian, but none of the them heard him coming. Swinging his legs forward, he managed to snatch two of them, ascending with them securely in either talon. The curved talons dug deep into skin, like long black fishing hooks. As the men struggled, they only gored themselves further onto the talons until Adrian reached the top of the building and let them drop.

Aleksei had taken the opportunity to kill the remaining officer, and was now feverishly working to get Otto's net rigging under the oil drums. It wasn't a complicated process, just a tedious one.

Otto had made the net rig with something he called 'slip-mesh'. The mesh, even when formed into a rope structure, could flatten and slide beneath heavy objects with relative ease. Otto had gone into the technical details about zero friction blah blah but by that point Adrian had been thinking about what he was going to eat that day.

Whatever it was, it was a pain in the ass to work with because it was slippery as hell, but once it was on, it was _on_. Still, fifty drums was a hefty number. Aleksei had to drag the slip-mesh net under them and make sure not one was missed, and then secure the ends together with the talon clamp. Hard work to do when people were shooting at you.

Adrian turned, determined to keep him covered. The shooters had regrouped and were now taking aim at Aleksei, desperate to protect their fuel.

Spotting the shooters from nearby windows, Adrian began his attack. Slicing through one wall after another, he strafed from building to building. Barely any of the shooters were caught in his wings, (and those that were were quickly minced), but it was enough to scare them off for a few precious seconds for Aleksei.

He continued the harassment for a good five minutes, swooping from one building to the next whenever a brave idiot would try to fire at him or Aleksei. Most of them had gotten wise and gone hiding.

Aleksei's voice rang over the comm, calling him down for the pick up.

Now came the dangerous part.

Adrian turned, descending toward the netted drums of diesel. Aleksei was standing on top of them, holding up the harness that Adrian had to grab with his talons. The Russian had clipped himself onto the netting in case he fell. And it was _extremely_ easy to slip and fall on the accurately named slip-mesh.

No matter how many times they'd done raids, some idiot always got it in his head that it was a good idea to try and get the jump on Adrian just as he was slowing into a controlled descent to snatch the cargo.

Today was no exception.

With the harness already secured in his talons, Adrian was in the early beginnings of his ascent when he heard Aleksei shout at him over the comm. Movement to the right caught his eye, but it was too far out of his peripheral vision to see.

Two choices presented themselves to Adrian. Turn and sway the cargo, possibly cause the harness to get twisted and the oil drums to tilt and possibly leak, or fly faster and just hope they miss.

 _Fly faster and just hope they miss._

The turbines spun at max RPM, and Adrian felt the wings rattle briefly from the sudden, jarring ascent. He had to risk it. He shouted for Aleksei to hold on as he guns it into a rapid vertical takeoff.

He feels pain, searing and white hot, above his right knee. Son of a bitch managed to plug him despite the odds. Well, that was good for him, and bad for Adrian. The flight back to Otto's compound wasn't too long, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to stay conscious at that rate. He wasn't exactly young. He knew the risk he was taking back in New York when he ran the heists, but that had been low risk – at least compared to this.

He doesn't say anything, biting back the pain, switching his comm to manual so Aleksei can't hear him groaning. They leave New Paltz and its one lucky gunman behind, soaring back to the highway.

It was another ten minutes before he felt Aleksei shift around on the cargo.

"Vulture!" Aleksei's voice called over the comm, "Blood all over your pants, are you hurt?"

"They got me." He admits, biting back another groan of pain. "I can make it back to the warehouse...but let Doc know anyway. Just in case. I'm gonna fly low."

He reached he interstate that they had flown up not even an hour ago. The oil drums are so numerous and heavy that he can't gun it at full speed and go horizontal. Instead he has to stay bent forward, with the turbines in their vertical position. Having accommodate for his cargo is the biggest time sink.

There's silence over his comm for a while as he feels the hot blood quickly move down his leg to his foot, pooling within his boot. With every heartbeat he knows more is coming out, and he's starting to think – okay – maybe making it to the headquarters was a bit of wishful thinking. They'd only been on the road for a half hour and he already feels like he's drowning in exhaustion.

Otto's voice finally comes on the line and for whatever reason, Adrian feels relief. The kid always knows what to do, he always has a plan.

"Vulture, stay on your current heading. Hunter and I are coming out to meet you. Fly low and slow, just focus on keeping the cargo safe. Am I understood?"

"You got it, doc."

There's a brief pause, soft static filling the line before a rushed, "And hang in there." is added before Doc's comm line switches off.

 _Aw. The little shit really does care._

Adrian slumps forward, the wings doing most of the steering for now. He just has to make sure he doesn't lean too far to the left or right. Just lean forward. Lean forward.

"Vulture, let me tell of how I single-handedly cooked entire Russian Mafia in jail authentic stroganoff with limited resource!" Aleksei practically shouted over the comm. "Great story, many laughs!"

"Shoot, Rhino." Adrian mumbled. His eyes feel heavy, despite the bright green HUD feeding him a well lit version of the never-ending road.

"No mushroom in prison, but Aleksei can improvise, you see, I-..."

Aleksei trails off and Adrian struggles to listen, limbs feeling heavier and pulse slowing.

 _I'm going to die out here. I'm going to die because some dickhead got a lucky pot shot off at me while I was near the ground. I'm never gonna see my baby again..._

He hears Aleksei calling to him through the comm, feels the chill run up his legs and fill his entire body. He sees the long road before them suddenly turn sideways. In the back of his mind, he hears Mason's voice, shouting at him. Why was Mason shouting? What was wrong?

 _"Chief you're banking too fast, you gotta drop the cargo!"_

"What?" He mumbles, struggling to keep his eyes open. "What you say Mason?"

He knows Aleksei is calling him over the comm but he doesn't understand what the man is shouting. A sudden shot of adrenaline brings him back briefly as he realizes Mason was right. He was banking too hard, he was going to crash – the cargo was going to be dragged if he didn't release it.

Curling the right finger, even if somewhat clumsily, initiates the cargo release.

He feels the talons detach and release the oil drums – and Aleksei – to a short, maybe four or five foot drop. Fingers crossed the drums don't get damaged and leak. That'd be a bummer.

The realization that he's diving straight into the pavement is a pretty calm one. With this much blood loss, most of what's happening to Adrian Toomes right now, he has decided – is just fine.


	7. Chapter 7

Otto squints through the night vision goggles, holding them steady as Kravinoff floors it down the freeway.

"Old man most likely is dead." Kravinoff mutters, not taking his eyes off the road. "If not, will need medical care."

"I know." Otto snaps back. Kravinoff isn't bothered by his moodiness. The sniper rarely seems to react with anything outside of stoicism.

"Why go to trouble?"

Otto sighs, annoyed at Kravinoff's questions. Normally the man isn't this talkative.

"Toomes might have one foot in the grave most days, but would you really trust Gargan or Aleksei on that wing rig? Whether the old man knows it or not, it takes a certain level of guts and skill to pilot that thing and do what he does. He got nearly a decades worth of experience behind the wheel with his last pair. You find me someone with eight years of experience flying a personal VTOL aircraft system _and_ a willingness to use it in our criminal endeavors, please. I'll take them into consideration."

"Anyone can learn to use wings."

Otto sneered, putting on a mockery of Kravinoff's accent, "But can anyone learn to use wings _good_ , comrade?"

That finally earned him an annoyed glance from the hunter, and Otto just grinned in return.

The two drove in silence for a while longer until Otto finally mustered the courage to speak about something he was sure that Kravinoff would scoff at.

"I know you don't put a lot of stock in giving a shit about people. Consider you...y'know, like to hunt them. I get it, you fly solo, that's your thing. It's fine. But Gargan actually kind of has a weird point. It'll behoove us to work together and support each other. We're not a gang or a couple of...drug guys who will sell each other out at the first sign of trouble." Otto paused, "I was never actually involved in the criminal underworld, I got sent away for manslaughter. I don't know how gangs work."

This piques Kravinoff's interest and he looks over at Otto. He knows immediately what Kravinoff is interested in, and he sighs. Time to mull over his favorite piece of uncomfortable history.

"When I was in grad school, I built a limb rig like the one I have back at HQ. The one I built back then sort of...pulled my professor apart. While I was operating it. And we were having an argument...it was an accident!"

Kravinoff chuckles, nodding and turning back to the road. "Feeling bad now won't change it."

Well, he had a point there.

"Anyway," Otto continued, "I was never a street criminal...person...before all this. But I binge watched a lot of Law and Order in high school and it sounds like criminals aren't usually friends. Now – now before you get any ideas, I'm not suggesting we be friends."

"Good."

"..Right – but what I _am_ suggesting is that we make a pretty good team, right? We can all tolerate each other to a certain extent. Especially when you all aren't bothering me at my work station. We can occupy the same space and form plans, we all have our roles to fill. This is a good team. This is a good thing we've got going."

Kravinoff shrugs, giving a nod of agreement. "Is good thing, true."

"Right. So that just means we need to support each other. Like right now. If we lose Toomes, we lose our air superiority. It'll take time and finding someone we can trust, which will not be easy, to get a replacement. Unless you want to me to resize the rig to fit you so you can learn how to use it?"

Kravinoff shudders at the thought, shaking his head. "Hate flying."

"See? One down. I have my own rig that I'm almost done with. Gargan likes to keep things 'up close and personal' as he put it – and, would you really trust Rhino to fly that thing if he had to carry two tons of equipment _and_ you safely? I'm making him a suit specifically designed to crash through walls. Does that scream 'aerial finesse' to you?"

"Point is made."

"Alright – alright."

Otto fidgets in his seat for a little bit. The sun has gone down well beyond the horizon, and the crescent moon is peaking out from behind some heavy cloud cover. It's a cool night, and Otto can smell the rain that's coming in from the north.

"Is this top speed Kravinoff?"

"Mm. We get there soon."

"Can I ask you a favor?"

Kravinoff glances at him oddly then gives a nod.

"If he's still alive when we get there but it's not something we can fix, I got some morphine stashed in the back. If we're sure he's just going to die there could you uh...just- you know?"

The Russian gives him a small nod, turning his eyes back to the road.

Otto breathes a sigh of relief. Out of all the group, he was still the youngest, and he figures maybe that was why he was so soft about these sorts of things. Gargan, Kravinoff, Aleksei and Toomes could all kill without the slightest hesitation. He'd seen all of them do it at least twice.

Him on the other hand, he still had nightmares about the aftermath of the lab incident. Of a red soaked lab coat and person pieces strewn from one end of the lab to the other. Students screaming, people shouting in horror when they came in to see what was wrong. Everything had gone numb for him at that point after the arms had just...torn and ripped and twisted away at the man. Otto remembered shouting at them to stop – as if that would do any good.

They had been wired to a helmet similar to the one he had constructed back at the lab. One that could sense his neural patterns and commands. If he'd really wanted them to stop, they would have. That was really the damning evidence in court when his own presentation about _'absolute control'_ using the neural helmet had been brought in by the prosecution.

He'd grown fond of all of them. Except Gargan. The man knew Otto's worth and backed off whenever he got too pushy, but Otto was still downright terrified of him. He knew that if it came down to it, he was all bark, and Gargan was all bite. Kravinoff though was quiet but knowledgeable, Aleksei was jovial and never picked on him. Toomes was laid back and had a good work ethic.

No, they weren't friends. But they still needed to look out for each other. Otto knew that the chances of a man in his 60's to survive a gunshot wound after nearly an hour and a half of infliction was pretty damn low, especially one to the thigh as Aleksei had described. Still, he had to try.

Plus he _really_ didn't want the beautiful wing suit he'd built for Toomes to end up in the hands of some jerkoff who would crash it.

"See them." Kravinoff grunted.

Otto sat up in the passenger seat of the Jeep, bringing his night vision goggles back up to his face. He could see it then, the massive wings sprawled across four lanes of highway. Adrian had at least had the sense, or luck, to make a full turn and land on his back. The bladed feathers of the wing tips cut through the cold air, sharp black silhouettes rising against the dark blue sky.

He saw Aleksei rise up from nearby, waving at them. Kravinoff slowed the Jeep and the two climbed out, rushing over to Aleksei who was carrying Toomes. Even in the dark, Otto is able to spot a heavy bandage above Toomes' right knee. He silently gives himself a pat on the back for installing a small first aid kit in one of the wing compartments.

"Still have pulse but, I don't know how to help this." Aleksei said quietly, offering Toomes over to Kravinoff.

The man takes him, bringing Toomes to the back seat of the Jeep and laying him down carefully. As he works, Otto takes out a flashlight and begins to inspect the wing rig.

"Did the diesel make it?" He asks as he checks over the most vital components.

"All drums are good, no leaks."

"Good...still, getting these back without the wing rig will be a logistical nightmare. I might have to just use them myself." Otto gives a look back at the giant wings, spread out on the pavement. "Not really my style but we can't just leave them here."

Kravinoff grunts to get their attention, Otto and Aleksei looking over at him. He's positioned himself awkwardly over Toomes, flashlight wedged between the side of his face and his shoulder.

"Superficial wound – in and out. Lots of bleeding, but no bullet inside. May make it through the night..might not. He needs a blood transfusion."

"Where we gonna pick one of those up? The Costco nearby is all out." Otto huffs.

Kravinoff hops down from the passenger seat, climbing back in behind the wheel.

"Medical tech was in one of the crates we stole from Avengers HQ. I'll see if I can get an ID of his blood type and find donor." Kravinoff explains.

"Let us know as soon as you find out." Otto responds with his attention only half on Kravinoff. He stares at the wing rig in apprehension. When Otto built it, he'd never intended to actually _use_ it himself. Knowing what the controls did was one thing, actual experience was another.

"Get in wings so we can get fuel back to warehouse!" Aleksei shouts, moving to the netted oil drums a few yards away. Toomes had at least had the sense to drop the goods before impact.

"Uhhh yeah just..gimme a few minutes to get in this thing." Otto responds, nervously looking down at the rig that he had tailored to Adrian's measurements. From the exo-legs to the gloves, it was all custom. Illegal turbine powered alien-tech flight suits didn't come in Small to XL.

"I'm going back to headquarters." Kravinoff called from the Jeep as he turned it on. "Don't waste time."

With that, Kravinoff speeds away with an unconscious and possibly soon to be dead Adrian Toomes.

Otto swallows nervously, looking back down at the wing rig. Well, on the upside, he didn't have to get it turned over. Toomes had landed on his back and skidded across the highway for a while before stopping. All he had to do was lay back in the harness and get it attached, get himself in the exo-legs and put the gloves on.

Easy.

Easy peasy.

Easy peasy crash and die if there's a strong breezy.

"Rhino come help me get in this thing."

He knew the man's real name but, Rhino just _fit_. Plus Aleksei seemed to like the nickname.

Otto laid himself back into the harness, securing the saddle and leg straps on himself. Rhino had to help him with the underarm and chest straps, readjusting the length of the straps several times before it finally fit.

"You are fatter than Vulture." Rhino remarked.

Otto bristled, but he knew that Rhino was just making an observation, not a judgment.

"Will the exo-legs fit?" He asked, unable to bend down to look. That was frustrating. _Mental note, improve flight rig so user can actually bend over._ He felt a little silly but he'd never really considered Adrian would have to bend completely down when he could just lean forward for his momentum.

He felt the pressure of the metal as Rhino tried to fit the casings over his legs. He could tell it was going to be a rough time, but if Rhino just squeezed hard enough some of that pudge could move…

After much struggling and uncomfortable shifting around, the exo-legs finally locked into place. Otto's legs were shorter than Adrian's, so the exo-legs didn't fit like they were supposed to. They tugged and pinched at various parts of his skin, but it would only be for the trip, he reminded himself. Just for the trip back.

Rhino helped him pull the gloves on. He ran through the various operations in his head then nodded to himself. He had this. He could do this.

"Get the talon harness ready on those oil drums so we can get them back to base!" He ordered.

Rhino nods and rushes back to the oil drums, securing himself on the slip-mesh.

Otto knew the mathematical formulas he'd taken into account when creating Adrian's new wings. He knew how air pressure worked. The needed lift, the tilt of the rotors, the brief drop he would feel when the rotors would shift to accommodate for his movements.

He _knew_ that flying at an angle would split the lift between the rotors and the wings. Otto had designed all of this, and no doubt so had the creator of Adrian's original wings. But actually feeling it, feeling the raw power of the rotors pushing him upright when they warmed up and began to push him off the ground was so, so much different.

The rotors can't be heard but Otto feels the incredible power behind them as they push him completely upright and off of the ground within seconds.

He realizes he's hovering then. His heart races, but a voice in the back of his head reminds him; _The rotors automatically adjust, you're fine, whatever you do they'll compensate to keep you in the air._

Otto takes in a deep breath, telling himself to trust his own tech, trust his own genius. The same genius that considered his subconscious desires to tear apart his professor rather than his rational desires to do the opposite.

Maybe right now wasn't the best time to be thinking about that.

"Just hold the talon harness steady, Rhino!" Otto shouts as he carefully tilts forward. The rotors tilt in turn to adjust, and he hovers over the pavement awkwardly.

Rhino is holding up the large horizontal harness that Otto had designed. It's almost shaped like a bobby pin, but wider, with grooves to lock the talons into place so the cargo wouldn't slip if Adrian had to make sudden movements in the air.

Otto was quickly finding out, as he tried time and time again to swat the harness with his foot, that foot-eye coordination wasn't a skill that came naturally. Of course, his actual feet being a few inches shorter than the actual exo-boot made it harder. He had to compensate for a tiny bit of space he was forgetting wasn't there.

After several clumsy tries, he finally gets one talon in, then the other. They lock into place automatically, and Rhino gives him a thumbs up to confirm everything is secure and ready to move.

 _The old man can do it. If he can do it, you can do it. You are strong. You are independent. You are capable._ Otto recites in his head as he prepares to activate increase the RPM of the turbines.

 _You read that in a self-help book in prison but that doesn't make it any less valid._

The wings do their job, and most of it is making up for the fact that Otto is _terrified_ and can't steer for shit. Adding to some salt in _that_ particular wound is that he designed the steering controls himself.

Otto has never believed that fear is a good motivator. In fact, it's a terrible one. The worst one. People panic, just like he's panicking now. They screw up, just as he's screwing up repeatedly much to his own embarrassment.

Still, despite it all, he does manage to fly the wing rig back to the headquarters. They make it back before Kravinoff – no surprise – but aren't able to beat the rain. Throughout the entire trip, rain has been pelting Otto in the face.

No doubt Kravinoff and the old man had been caught in the rain too. Which meant Toomes would have to pull through major blood loss _and_ possible hypothermia.

Otto carefully hovers over the parking lot while Mac directs him back to the drop-off point. Four semis are parked in the lot, with more of Mac's old prison friends who are supposed to be helping out with the whole organization.

The number of men and women Mac has gathered to be his 'help' worries Otto. Just how many people did Gargan have connections with? How many of these thugs had their been _before_ the 2nd incident?

(He'd pitched out names for what to call what had happened. So far the only thing that had stuck was '2nd Incident'. Everything else from the 'Ashening' to 'Dusting-Day' had been met with a chorus of resounding 'No!'s)

The whole crew of thugs and drivers is all camped out near and inside of the semis. Otto had refused to let them inside, citing that the equipment within was far too dangerous to just let a bunch of street thugs hang around by. Gargan had grudgingly agreed and forced them to reside near the semis.

That didn't make Otto any new friends, but he wasn't going to let them wreck any of his hard work. Kravinoff and Rhino would have his back. Toomes too. If Toomes was even alive by tomorrow morning.

Gargan gives him a thumbs up from the ground, signaling he can set down the cargo safely. Otto carefully eases down the net, Rhino jumping off a few feet from the ground and clearing the landing zone.

Once the drums of oil are on the ground, Otto lands the wings back in their supports. Rhino helps him out of the harness and exo-legs, and he breathes a loud sigh of relief once the uncomfortable metal is unlatched from around his calves.

Rhino slaps him on the shoulder so hard that it almost sends him flying.

"You did such good job! Good job!"

Otto laughs nervously, forcing an uncomfortable smile.

 _I am never doing that shit again._


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing Toomes feels is foggy. This is followed by variations of foggy. Painful foggy. Sharp foggy. Grimy foggy. Painful and sharp foggy. It's like trying to surface in a pool when the water is made out of sand. He keeps trying to surface anyway, becoming more aware of his body and his surroundings before he can bring himself to open his eyes.

He's inside, he knows that much. Dry and warm. The only sounds he can make out are someone moving around nearby, and the quiet, occasional flicks of a book page.

Fading in and out of a shallow, lucid sleep, it isn't another hour at best until Adrian manages to open his eyes. The lights are dimmed and the darkness is easy to adjust to.

A small light from nearby grabs his attention.

Straining to turn his head, he sees Rhino a few feet away. The man is hunched over a book, engrossed in it. A small table lamp is all he has to illuminate the pages.

Adrian croaks out his name and Rhino shoots up from the chair, at his side in a second. He grabs Adrian's hand in his own, squeezing it tightly.

"You're awake!" He shouts, causing Adrian to wince.

Rhino turns his head and shouts back into the warehouse, "HE'S AWAKE! DOC COME OVER!"

Soon the pudgy 20-something is shuffling his way around various crates, making a bee-line for the table that Adrian is on. When he sees Adrian the man is stuck between impressed and incredulous.

"I'm gonna be honest." He mutters, "I thought you were just gonna be a vegetable."

Adrian yawns at him in response, resting back down and weakly tugging a cover up to his chin. Otto frowns, huffing and moving closer to the old man.

"Uh? I think I deserve a 'thank you' at the very least?"

Rhino's voice rings out, "Kravinoff did blood transfusion. And I was donor!"

"I still helped!"

Adrian tunes them out and is soon back asleep. Otto and Rhino argue on for a while until they hear his snores. Sharing glares, the two go silent. Otto returns to his work elsewhere, and Rhino returns to his book.

* * *

It takes Adrian three more days of constant rest before he can get up and walk around again. His walk is more of a limp, but the Doc was nice enough to make him some makeshift crutches to get around on for now.

It's Rhino who tells him it was Kravinoff who knew how to do the procedure. Kravinoff who tested his blood and found Adrian's blood type – but more importantly, that Rhino was a universal donor. Adrian sniffs him out the moment he's back on his feet and finds the hunter perched on top of a crate, cleaning his favorite sniper rifle.

"Hey." Adrian calls, craning his head back. Kravinoff is laying on the crate like a proud lion on his favorite rock, stretched out and lazy in the mid-afternoon.

Kravinoff greets him with a grunt and a nod. No surprise there. Adrian can tell he's not a guy who would appreciate a 'thank you', so he settles for something else.

"I owe you one."

Another grunt. Another nod. Mutual understanding. Adrian returns a short nod and is on his way.

As he's wandering back to his own little corner amid the crates, something tall and silvery catches his eyes. Hobbling awkwardly on his crutches, Adrian manages to weave around the jungle of stolen equipment. Waiting for him is an enormous silver and black suit that is being suspended by several chains from the ceiling. It reminds Adrian of the Hulkbuster armor that had shown up in Johannesburg, but slimmer in design.

Apart from being more humanoid shaped, with a narrower waist and longer legs, the suit has a strange, boxy head with a large horn fashioned out of thick metal plating on the top.

 _The little shit really made it into a fucking Rhino._

He couldn't blame it all on the kid. They were growing up with their Thors and their Iron Men, it was bound to rub off on everything they did. Hell, as long as the suit worked – and he was sure it would – it wasn't his place to pass judgment. He'd accepted Vulture after a while and had just ran with it too.

"Pretty badass right?" Otto asks, approaching him from behind, moving up to stand beside him.

Adrian nods, looking at the Rhino suit. "So what's he supposed to do in that thing? Punch bank vaults?"

"Well, yeah – that's where they keep stuff. You give us air superiority but we're still just a bunch of guys otherwise. You might be able to fly off to safety but Rhino and Gargan can't. This Rhino suit will be the bulldozer that clears the way for any future heists. Entry and exit won't be cause for issue. Plus, he can lift several tons with this armor. No more hauling or dragging around on the ground level."

"You're really buying into all this stuff?" Adrian asks, lowering his voice as he looks over at Otto. "You really think we're gonna have some kind of long term hold on a city?"

The young man seems surprised at his question, and not entirely sure what to say in response. He glances back and forth, a bit nervous under Adrian's long stare, before answering quietly.

"Well...yeah. I mean...look at how the world is now. Things aren't going back to normal. If they were, they would have by now, don't you think? There's less and less radio chatter from cops every day. They're realizing, and rightly so, that things aren't getting better."

Adrian sniffs, shrugging and taking out a pack of gum from his pocket, sticking a piece into his mouth. "After all the shit we've seen...monsters comin' out of the sky, Thunder gods, giant wheel things hangin' over New York...I think we're kidding ourselves if we're ever gonna assume something iisn't/i possible at this point. That includes things going back to normal. That includes Iron Man and Thor and all their heavy hitters suddenly showing back up like they were just on a short vacation."

Otto listens, and for once, doesn't have a quick response. He mulls over Adrian's words, considering them for a while as he stares at the Rhino suit he's spent days slaving over.

"I mean, you might be right." He relents, voice hushed. Otto glances around them to make sure no one is listening in before he looks back at Adrian and speaks in a whisper.

"I didn't want this, you know? What happened..I...didn't want it to happen. I really didn't. But it happened, and I'm here now, and there's no way out except Gargan's way."

"That's not a way out, that's just digging yourself deeper in."

"I know, I know that. But what's the alternative? Try to live a normal life? There is no normal. Half the world is gone, the other half is barely capable of functioning. Go back to Sing Sing?" Otto chuckles at the prospect of that, but Adrian can see the pain on the kid's face. "I'm never going back there. Do I look like a fighter to you? Gargan was the only reason I didn't wind up in the prison morgue, and he did it for the express purpose of me having to owe him down the line. A few months later, the 2nd Incident happens...and here we are."

"Here we are." Adrian echoes. "You ever think about trying to find your family?"

At the very mention of 'family', Otto gains a hard, cold expression. That's all Adrian needs to see to know to not bring that subject up again.

"What's Gargan got on you?" Otto asks after a while, "What's keeping you here?"

"All he's got on me is a kill switch, kiddo. You think I wouldn't be taking those wings cross-country right now if I didn't have that hanging over my head? Gargan suspects it. He's not stupid." Adrian pauses, then narrows his eyes at Otto, leaning forward. "If you lend me a hand, I can get both of us untied from this web he's trapped us in."

Adrian gives Otto a pointed look, but the kid just stares back at him. It takes him a moment, but he seems to pick up what Adrian is implying. He quickly shakes his head then, swallowing.

"No," He whispers angrily, "Absolutely not. We do anything to Gargan and his army of criminal BFFs are going to come after us."

"Then deactivate the kill switch and we can both get out of here. I'll get you out, Otto. Trust me kid, this isn't a life you were made for!" Adrian whispers fiercely.

"The kill switch is too deep inside of the wings to just deactivate. You'd have to take them apart. Besides, I'm not just going to risk my own well being here. You think I trust you to actually help me? You're a criminal, a career criminal for that matter. This is our reality now, and you need to get used to it, _Vulture_."

Adrian sneers at him, sucking air through his teeth. Well, he tried.

"Just get used to having your head on a swivel, kid." He mutters, then glances back at the Rhino suit. "Did he have you install a kill switch on that suit too?"

Otto pauses, the briefest look of shame moving across his face. "...Yeah."

"What about your arms? The ones you made?"

"No!" Otto says, a little louder than he means to. He quickly quiets down, glaring at Adrian. "Those are some of the finest pieces of work I've ever done, I'd never-"

"He's just gonna find a different sword to string over your head, kid." Adrian interrupts, waving a hand in the air between them. "Trust me. Men like Gargan know how to exploit people. You might be enjoying this little science session because he's giving you all the tools and materials you need to make this stuff...but you're making it for him. The arms are yours, sure. But they're so he can achieve his own ends with your help. None of this is charity, kid. Nothing's for free."

"Don't call me 'kid', and I know that, Toomes. I'm not stupid. But I'm here – and I'm...I'm sticking with Gargan. Like I'd ever get a chance to create these things otherwise. Things might not work out exactly according to plan, but there's nothing waiting for me out there that's better than this."

Adrian watches him for a while before relenting, inclining his head to Otto and turning, leaving the kid and the masterpiece he's created by themselves.

* * *

Adrian sits out for the majority of the work needed for the big move. The loading of the equipment is left to the others, mainly Rhino.

Otto had presented the Rhino suit to him, fully completed, and Adrian had barely seen Aleksei out of it since. The man _adored_. The raw power it gave him was almost scary, but at least it was in the hands of someone that Adrian felt he could trust. He'd have been much more worried if it had been Gargan in that suit.

The whirring gears and intricate machinery of the Rhino suit barely make a sound as it carries crates in and out of the warehouse. It's certainly a masterpiece, there's no doubt about that. Aleksei had taken a few hours to really get used to it, but Otto had called it idiot-proof. Whether Otto's description was correct or not, it didn't matter. Aleksei had gotten the use of it down as if he'd been born for the thing.

As the others worked, Adrian struggled with his recovery. He was old, and only getting older, and he had to be honest with himself that injuries like gunshot wounds – even superficial ones – were going to take more out of him than they would have ten, or even five years ago.

Otto had been kind enough to create a leg brace for him, something he whipped up in a day. He'd said several times that he had just been extraordinarily bored and it had _nothing to do with him feeling bad about Adrian having to hobble around on crutches._ The leg brace isn't half bad – it's small and slim, fits perfectly and takes the majority of the stress from his leg and knee.

Adrian really feels his age when he says it makes him feel like Mad Max and Otto just stares at him, shrugging.

"You know, Mad Max right? He always had a leg brace because in the first movie-"

"He wore a leg brace? Wait - There's more than one Mad Max? I thought Fury Road was the only one."

"What?!" Adrian thanks God that Mason isn't here to hear this. The man would've had a coronary right there from someone even daring to not understand the masterpiece that was the Road Warrior. "Come on – Road Warrior? Thunderdome? Even the first one isn't half bad, it's just real low budget. These are staples of cinematic culture."

"Hearing the words 'cinematic culture' even come out of your mouth is weird. You sound like a plumber talking about genetic engineering. I can't take anything in regards to the arts or culture seriously when you say it."

"Doris used to love movies. She got me really hooked on the ones she loved, she'd talk about them for hours. Sometimes we'd sit out on the back porch and just chat..." Adrian trails off, realizing that Otto is beginning to look uncomfortable.

The conversation reaches an awkward halt there, and Otto gives a weak smile and nod before quickly shuffling off.

Adrian realizes that he's speaking about Doris in the past tense now. He shrinks back to his corner and remains there for the rest of the day. His injury had provided him temporary distraction, but now the thoughts return anew. The sting, and the dread are as fresh and as terrible as they had been when he first felt them.

Looking around the warehouse, Adrian's blood runs cold and he feels an awful tug in his chest.

 _Just run – just run for the wings. If you can fly fast enough, maybe you can get far enough away and the kill switch signal won't reach you._

Fear and worry is quickly replaced by rage. Rage at Gargan for the kill switch, for knowing that he would have to keep Adrian in check otherwise of course he would've ran.

The wings are the only practical way he'd ever be able to cover the ground to try and find Doris and Liz. Gargan was taking that chance from him. Gargan was tearing away any opportunity he'd have to try and find his wife and daughter, if they were still alive.

He'd buried the hatred and impatience and sheer poison he felt toward the man and he had to force himself to keep doing so. But he knew – as any good opportunist did – that an upcoming change meant new chances he could benefit from. As ridiculous as he thought Gargan's wish to run a criminal organization in the heart of a broken city was, it still presented Adrian with the opportunity he'd been waiting for.

Pulling his jacket tighter around himself, Adrian sank his face down into the thick, soft fur collar. The long fur rose to cover the lower half of his face as he stared across the newly empty warehouse.

Mac Gargan stood near the door, talking with two of his thugs, laughing with them as they joked around. No doubt they were all excited to get to New York City. Excited for the criminal opportunities they were going to succeed in with the technology that Adrian and Kravinoff had labored to retrieve.

 _Go ahead and laugh_ , Adrian seethed as he stared at Gargan. His back was to the corner of his little space in the warehouse, and the lighting inside had been dimmed. He was easily hidden and could've just as easily been mistaken for sleeping. But he wasn't. He was watching, and he was waiting. When Gargan was at his most vulnerable, when he least expected it, when he needed a helping hand the most – Adrian would strike.


	9. Chapter 9

Gargan's a jackass. Adrian knows this. Hell, if he could have 'Mac Gargan is a jackass' branded onto his chest, he'd do it in the heartbeat. Adrian Toomes would take a dirt nap letting every soul know how much he hated Mac Gargan.

That didn't stop the assault on the Avengers Tower he had planned from being any less badass.

The attack on Avengers Tower ( _The name 'The Tower Formerly Known as Avengers' had been deemed too long, even though everyone got the joke_ ) had taken weeks of planning. Adrian had been on the mend during those weeks, and was now back to his old self. He was doubly glad for it, considering that Otto had been thinking about training someone else to use the wings if Adrian hadn't recovered in time.

He had to wonder if sheer spite and jealousy of someone else donning his wings had helped speed up the healing process.

It had taken two more weeks to get everything moved into position. Otto and Gargan were the masterminds behind the logistics of it, although now and then they would go to Adrian for advice on how he could implement aerial support. It surprised him that Gargan would ask him for his advice at first, but the man seemed genuinely want to hear what Adrian had to say.

Of course none of them had the experience Adrian had when it came to aerial logistics, so it wasn't a complete mystery, but Adrian was beginning to suspect that Gargan was much more shrewd than his first impression let on. This relieved Adrian, but also made him nervous. The kill switch was proof that Gargan probably saw through his own false motivation of greed. No doubt there were other bits of insurance that Gargan had gotten for himself to ensure none of the others betrayed him, hidden away somehow that only he knew.

Adrian hated himself for not just flying off, but that voice in his head was always there, reminding him why he couldn't.

 _Gargan will wait until you're high enough and flip the kill switch. You will fall and die, and even if Liz or Doris are alive, you'll be too dead for it to matter._

A car was out of the question as well. The gas stations had gone dry a good month ago, with diesel being a hot commodity that was now worth killing over.

"Is like Mad Max!" Aleksei had shouted after Adrian had made the observation one evening.

It was. The whole world had gone from costumed bozos dropping entire cities to people grouping up to protect precious resources with guns, knives, and whatever else they could scrap together. Some wild west shit. Real Road Warrior stuff.

They were living the dream now, if that's what you wanted to call it.

Adrian didn't know what to call it, even on good days. Even on days when thoughts of Liz being caught up in all of this didn't make him want to go straight for Gargan's throat. He couldn't, even if he tried. Mac was never without some of his guys around, his loyal thugs from jail and before that, people who know it was better to be at his side than in his way. They'd drop Adrian in a heartbeat if he tried anything.

The rage was just below the surface. Utter fury at being denied the chance to find his girl, his wife – the two people he'd loved more than life itself. He'd kept it deep inside, buried, waiting. Some of it he was saving for Gargan, for when the time was right.

Right now was for the rest.

Avengers Tower had been a hot piece of real estate once New York City had gone to complete shit. As civilians and just regular folks fled, criminals and gangs struggled for turf. Avengers Tower was seen as a beacon – as a trophy. If you had a criminal enterprise in New York City – which there was no shortage of – Avengers Tower was the icing on the cake. The ultimate poker hand when it came to pissing contests. An arc reactor keeping the lights on was awfully nice too.

Adrian could see why Gargan wanted it. Hell, part of Adrian wanted it to. He was tired of living in a warehouse. If Mac Gargan was going to press gang him into his criminal endeavors, he might as well be forced to cooperate with a great view and natural sunlight.

But all of that – the view, the space, the natural light – it could wait. First they had to clean out the rather large group of criminals that were currently calling it home.

Adrian wasn't sure who these people were; they didn't wear anything to identify themselves with. Black ski masks, black tactical gear, a few variations here and there. If Adrian had to guess, they were probably some kind of Hydra-branch leftovers who saw a good opportunity to try and gain some turf. He'd heard word that there were a good number that had gone into hiding after the Triskelion incident that were keeping themselves underground.

He wasn't a saint, but Adrian liked to avoid Hydra leftovers when he could. They were few and far between, but whenever the mention came up for an arms deal, Mason always convinced him to pass. Back then of course, before Pedro, he could afford to pass up a deal here or there. Adrian would have happily cut a deal with them had Mason not been there to say otherwise.

"They're seriously, like, looney-tunes whacko boss. Sci-fi Nazi lizard-people Illuminati stuff." Mason had warned him.

"This from 'Chemtrails are real, man'? Give me a break." Adrian had snorted, but Mason hadn't let up. He'd always had a much stronger moral compass than Adrian – for someone who designed homemade alien weapons. Adrian had dropped a cement ceiling on a teenager after all, and had felt at least 90% justified in doing so. Mason had felt bad for cutting someone off on the highway.

 _Well Mason,_ Adrian thought to himself as he circled the tower, _if there is some kind of afterlife, you'd better give me some good karma for all these Hydra squatters I'm about to kick off a building._

Right now Rhino was storming up from the ground floor. The elevators had been disabled, meaning poor Aleksei had to climb up each flight on foot. Luckily the suit made it so easy to get up the steps – as Aleksei had happily exclaimed several times at this point. Gargan and Kravinoff were struggling to keep up with him, but the Rhino suit was a little too good at its job of crashing through any and all obstacles. Several times they'd called over the comm for him to slow down so they could climb over the wreckage he'd left behind.

Gargan's 'men', if they were going to be official – were left to clean up the aftermath.

Discount Hydra, as Otto had dubbed them, had claimed the top ten floors, but were in the middle of their own little turf war with some kind of high-end organized criminal front that Adrian wasn't familiar with. Could've been the Italians, or the leftovers from Hell's Kitchen. There were so many groups and factions within the city that even with half the world gone, they were still a force to be reckoned with.

" _Guys on the bottom floors aren't packing any Hydra tech but I think I saw some Hammer shit on a guy near the door. Try not to crush everyone, Rhino, we could get some good leftovers from this._ " Gargan's voice crackled over the comm.

" _Bah_!" Rhino exclaimed over the comm.

Adrian chuckled to himself. Mama Rhino didn't raise a quitter, that was for sure.

Staring through the HUD on his new helmet, Adrian could see an X-ray of the building and a large white dot steadily moving toward the top. Beneath him were two smaller dots, a green one for Gargan, and an orange one for Kravinoff. Otto really put all the bells and whistles onto his 'new' suit.

The wings were the same, but Otto had insisted on more armored portions for his core and legs to prevent what had happened at New Paltz. He'd done the work for the suit while Adrian recovered, and Toomes couldn't complain a damn bit. He'd been skeptical about the black, clawed gloves that Otto had given him. The 'talons' at the end of each finger were sharp and slick black crescents just waiting to dig into someone's flesh.

"Pull on a talon and there's a switch inside of them. It's sturdier and more reliable than just the touch-technology that went into your last one." Otto had explained when Adrian had given him a look of confusion. "Besides, we have Rhino, Gargan and Kravinoff for ground support. You're our eyes in the sky, for precision strikes and more tactical work. Let the meat shields do what they do best and sponge the bullets up while you wait for the right moment to land a decisive blow."

"This isn't World of Warcraft, Otto – I see your point, but, I'd still feel way better with some kind of sidearm with me while I'm out there. One that I can use with these...fantastic nails." Adrian had muttered, pulling his new gloves on. The black talons were an inch and a half long each. He tried, and failed, to curl his hand and make a fist.

"First of all, I don't play World of Warcraft, and I never would have, PC games-"

"Just get me a damn gun Otto."

Boy did he. Adrian's sidearm was a custom bit of Chitauri tech that Otto had slapped together while riding in the convoy they'd taken down into into the city. For a gun built in the back of a moving RV camper, it was a sleek bit of work. It was built to resemble a pistol, with the trigger guard removed and the grip customized to fit in his gloves. Having it at his side made Adrian feel safer, even when his job was to stick to the air.

Which he was doing, to his credit. Adrian could follow orders.

Rhino was still charging his way up, floor after floor, through gunfire and the occasional grenade. Most floors towards the top were empty. They'd attacked during an apparent stalemate between the two forces. The last of the heavily armed squatters they had to deal with were no doubt at the top, waiting for Rhino.

" _Vulture do a visual on the top five floors and the landing zone – check for anything suspicious_." Otto called out over the comm.

" _Got it_."

Swooping closer toward the large helipad that stuck out of the side of the tower, Adrian tugged at a talon to switch his visual displays. The helmet was a mix of gutted Iron Man tech with an F-35 helmet. Otto never disappointed, and the changes gave Adrian a level of situational awareness that he hadn't even thought possible.

He missed his old helmet, truth be told, it was much lighter and less bulky. But, Otto was determined that improvements were needed constantly, not occasionally. He wasn't happy with any of his creations, even the ones he loved. The kid could never be satisfied.

Adrian didn't have any arguments despite missing his old, familiar tech, but that was just him being nostalgic.

As he flipped through the various views that the high tech helmet provided, he checked for any signs of heat signatures, explosives, or chemicals that might indicate some sort of trap set up. Hydra, even discount Hydra, were pretty quick on the uptake. Adrian was sure they'd put up a hell of a fight.

" _I'm seeing..._ "

He counted at least twenty heat signatures as he circled around, but a few were blobbed together – so no doubt it was a few guys crouching near each other.

" _We'll go with 25, but there's probably more. They might be packing some heavy artillery Doc, Rhino shouldn't charge in there by himself._ "

" _Yeah well, tell that to Rhino_." Otto muttered. " _Vulture, coordinate with Rhino. You got enough space to swoop in?_ "

" _I'll make space. Rhino, got that? Wait for the others before you charge in there. They've got heavier ordinance than the thugs downstairs._ " Adrian ordered, flying between two tall buildings.

It was eerie, flying in the city when it was almost all blacked out. A few buildings still had power, either by a heavily guarded generator or part of the grid that had somehow maintained itself through all of this hell. Those were on the mainland though. On Manhattan, Avengers Tower was the last lit building in any direction.

The night vision on his helmet made the lazy circles he'd been flying in around Avengers tower to be remarkably simple. He'd taken a few seconds to switch it off, and it was complete and utter blackness. The city was an ocean of reflections. Reflections along the glass windows of so many dark skyscrapers that stood, gutted and empty in the moonlight.

He'd switch the night vision back on quickly, lest he crash straight into an unlit building.

He watched as Rhino's marker moved further up the x-ray view of the tower, nearly to the helipad floor. Discount Hydra had barricaded themselves there, and Adrian was growing nervous. The helipad made him worry for Rhino. The suit made him strong and bulletproof, but not fall-proof.

Adrian squinted, flying closer to the helipad, covered by darkness. He tried to focus on some kind of strategy to keep Rhino away from that helipad, or what to do in case Discount Hydra were able to push him off.

He could catch him, of course – but that meant he had to be doubly careful that he didn't get caught up in the fight if he had to dive after Rhino at a moment's notice.

" _Vulture! Tell him to slow down! He'll listen to you!_ " Otto barked over the comm.

Adrian swung away from the helipad, circling around and looking at Rhino's marker, which had reached the helipad floor. Gargan and Kravinoff were several floors beneath him. They were moving, but there was no way they'd be able to reach him in time to back him up.

" _Rhino_ ," Adrian called, circling just beneath the helipad floor in quick circles. " _You need to wait for the others! You understand me?_ "

" _Suit will protect me!_ " Aleksei shouted back. Adrenaline and a feeling of nigh-invincibility no doubt were doing wonders for the man right now. " _No worries, Vulture – watch me work!_ " He laughed over the comm before shutting it off.

 _Shit_.

" _Doc, I'm going to do a bit of lawn mowing before Rhino gets himself blown up._ "

" _Be careful_."

" _Yes mom._ "

Checking the map one last time, Adrian could see Rhino at the end of the hall, preparing to charge. The red-dots had all begun to move, no doubt preparing for the attack. Adrian took note of their locations, then switched the view to just enhanced night vision. No more grid, no more 3D overlays or fancy views. Just the world in front of him in various shades of bright green.

Adrian flew up the remaining length of the building. Once he reached the top, he swung backward to perform a wide loop. The loop brought him up and around, then turned him back around until he was flying straight for the helipad.

He could see six of them – heavily armed, huddled back behind large crates, waiting. One of them had some kind of rocket launcher on him, the others were packing grenade launchers, and…

 _Was that a fucking mortar!?_

No no, that was **twelve** mortars.

Go big or go home, Adrian supposed. Discount Hydra wasn't playing around. He had faith in Otto's designs, but he wasn't sure that Aleksei himself, stuck inside of the suit, could handle the impact of mortar fire.

Well, time to make sure Aleksei wouldn't have to deal with it in the first place.

Adrian saw a large window on the other end of the floor that he was about to fly straight into. That was good enough, as long as he had an exit route, he could usually play this by ear. He quietly thanked Tony Stark for being a fan of enormous, wall sized windows. It made flying through entire buildings much easier.

Speeding forward, the first fly-through was just seconds, but they were seconds of utter chaos and confusion for everyone else. The Hydra men that had been crouched down near the helipad were the first to be caught in the path of his wings. Various crates were in his way as well, and they were sliced in half just as easily.

As he tore through the room, he managed to briefly glance to his left – over to the actual doorway. He could see rows of charges planted around the door frame. Adrian was moving so fast that he only caught a glimpse of them, but he knew in an instant what he'd seen.

Wrapping his wings around himself, he ducked his head and burst through the window at the opposite end of the room. The glass shattered into tiny pieces, showering down beneath him as he spread his wings back out and began to circle back around for another pass.

" _Rhino, they've rigged the door to blow, don't-_ "

Adrian could feel the explosion, even from up in the air. A split second later as he turned to face the building again, he could see the bright flames, appearing white in his night vision. They centered at the door, where either Rhino had tripped some kind of wire or they'd just detonated them by hand.

" _Rhino_?" Adrian called over the comm.

No response, only static.

Adrian didn't consider himself a man quick to anger, at least before the 2nd Incident. But, that was then, and this was now.

Sweeping around, he began his 2nd attack. This time, heading straight for the window that he'd burst through earlier. He could see three of them standing upright, firing at something. Hopefully that meant Rhino was still alive, just with a knocked out comm.

Wrapping his wings around himself, he soared through the huge shattered window, spreading them wide and letting the downwash from the rotors blast across the room. It wasn't too powerful, but it was enough to distract the Hydra soldiers.

The three soldiers paused, but only for a moment. They quickly turned and began to fire. Adrian felt a bullet bounce off of his leg armor just before he brought a wing in front of him to deflect the rest. Keeping the wing wrapped around himself protectively, he still had enough lift to propel himself forward and into the trio of soldiers.

The men tried to back up, but he was upon them within seconds. Sweeping his wing off to the side, he knocked them back to the ground, deep cuts from the wings slicing across their arms and torsos. They were still alive, grasping for their guns or trying to crawl away.

Good.

Adrian dropped down, all of his weight falling on two of them. His talons dug down into the sides of either of the Hydra soldiers he'd landed on, while he bent down and dug his talons deep into the neck of the third one.

Otto was right, these things were handy. A little avante garde for Adrian's taste, but, hell – more people knew him as Vulture than his actual name at this point. Might as well run with it.

Rotors blasting, Adrian flew forward, lifting off of the floor and flying over the open helipad. The men squirmed and tried to free themselves to no avail – but grew remarkably still once they realized he'd flown them off the side of Avengers tower.

He released all three without fanfare, without a snappy comment or anything witty to say. Adrian wasn't much for quips. The men screamed, but the high winds drown the sound out quickly, and he was already thinking on the remaining soldiers.

Flying back toward the tower, he could clearly see Rhino charging through the burning door and smacking one of the remaining soldiers so hard that the man was sent flying straight through a window.

Relief washed over him, and Adrian tried his comm again.

" _Rhino – you alright there buddy?_ "

" _Am fine! Explosion make things fuzzy for a little bit, better now!"_

" _Push them towards the helipad, Rhino, I'll pick them off_."

" _Roger!_ "

He snickered. Aleksei's enthusiasm was contagious. The man was just so damn happy to be there. He probably would've been just as enthused if he wasn't in the suit. Adrian imagined he would go about the task of storming Avengers tower with a fork with equal ardor.

Circling the helipad from above, it wasn't long before Hydra soldiers began to fall back onto it, becoming more and more desperate as Rhino forced them back. Adrian briefly looked for the box of mortars he'd seen, relieved to see it was one of the boxes caught and shattered in his first attack.

Nearly thirteen discount Hydra were now cowering behind crates as Rhino held his ground and ensured none of them got back under the relative safety of the roof. Not that it had done them that much good before, but having them out in the open made Adrian's job so, so much more pleasant.

Their attention entirely on Rhino, Adrian entered his attack run. Wings spread, metallic feathers gleaming in the dim light from the earlier explosion, he swept through them. Slicing bodies wasn't even an effort for the wings. They could slice through glass, cement – even steel. What was a warm body compared to that? Nothing.

The remaining soldiers trained their fire on Adrian, but he dove down beneath the helipad and was gone from sight within seconds.

As he flew down the side of the tower, Adrian noticed tiny flickers of light on the night vision display. He squinted, then hit his comm.

" _Is it raining?_ "

" _Just started._ " Doc responded, " _I think a storm is moving in, I heard some thunder earlier. Make sure nobody drops a house on you._ "

" _You're funny._ "

Aleksei's voice cut through then, " _All soldiers on helicopter pad!_ "

" _Got it,_ " Adrian responded, circling around to the back of the tower and flying up along it. He'd attack from above this time, no doubt they were expecting him from the side as he'd done before. " _Just keep them in place, Rhino, I don't want you to go close to the edge._ "

Aleksei let out an annoyed grunt at being denied the chance to send more soldiers flying, but Adrian knew he'd listen to him.

Soaring up above the top of Avengers Tower, he did a lazy flip in the air. Facing down, he entered into a steep, rapid dive toward the helipad.

Stall at the last moment, sweep across the helipad and take out the rest.

Two of the soldiers caught glimpse of him, somehow. All of them followed suit – at least fifteen men, heavily armed, raising their guns to fire at Adrian. That threw a wrench into things. He was already so close to the helipad, his only option now was to do a deep stall. Turning was an option, but he knew by instinct he wouldn't clear the helipad in time.

Not that Adrian had wanted Rhino to run out onto the helipad in that enormous suit, but he couldn't complain either when he did. Charging through the bodies, Rhino sent several soldiers flying across the helipad and off into the darkness. The others focused their fire on him, but it was useless. The armor was so thick that machinegun fire didn't even dent it.

With the soldiers no longer aiming their guns at him, Adrian entered the stall. Sweeping his legs forward, pulling his torso back, the angle of his wings shifted and the rotors took care of any residual force. He didn't land so much as skid across the helipad – a happy accident thanks to the rain fall – and ended up colliding with a Hydra soldier head on.

The man was quick, and had a pistol drawn before Adrian could sink his talons into him. He fired four shots in rapid succession at Adrian, causing the man to flinch and jerk back. No pain – no warm blood down his body. He'd be sore in the morning, but the surprisingly thin body armor that Otto had forced him to wear did its job.

The soldier paused, realizing that his bullets hadn't penetrated. He darted down to reach for one of the mortars that had been thrown from its crate.

As the soldier ran for the mortar, Adrian reached for his own sidearm, taking aim and firing once. The Chitauri gun flashed hot in his hand briefly before sending a shot at the soldier. It was like a miniature version of the gun he'd used on the ferry, two parallel rays of purple light forming a path for the ray of energy that cut the soldier down as he tried to reach the mortar.

Holstering the sidearm quickly, Adrian took back to the air. Rhino was much too close to the edge of the helipad for his comfort, and there was only a handful of Hydra soldiers remaining.

Adrian began to circle once more, watching as Aleksei held his ground in the center of the helipad. It seemed that even he was getting nervous about being so close to the edge. It must've been raining harder than Adrian realized. He couldn't tell, not with the layers he was wearing. The wings covered most of his back, and his legs were in the talon boots.

" _Hang tight there, Rhino, I'll get the ones near the edge._ " Adrian said, turning in for another dive.

A trio of soldiers was quickly mowed down, having tried to get cover behind some shattered crates and assemble a mortar.

Two more were thrown toward the edge as Adrian circled. Rhino had made quick but short charges to snatch up several nearby soldiers, and had hurled them toward the edge. Adrian was quick to snatch up the ones that didn't fall off, and ensure that they did.

The process of getting rid of the rest of the soldiers took longer than Adrian had expected, but even with Rhino's immense strength and speed, and his own aerial finesse, these discount Hydra men were a slippery, scrappy bunch who were holding on for dear life.

Not that it did them much good in the end. The last man standing was grabbed by Rhino, who threw him straight at Vulture to catch. Vulture hit the thrusters on his wings and sent the man face first into the nearest skyscraper.

" _VICTORY!_ " Aleksei shouted over the comm system.

Adrian winced, but couldn't resist chuckling. Despite hating Gargan and this entire scheme to be some kind of criminal enterprise in the heart of New York, a win was a win.

Circling a few times over Rhino, Adrian saw the man raise his enormous, metal clad arm. Adrian hesitated, the wings were extremely heavy – but – Otto had said the lifting and load carrying capacity of the Rhino suit was some ridiculous number, so Adrian figured he could take the chance.

Carefully descending, he landed on Rhino's raised fist, talons latching down around the enormous metal hand. Relaxing his weight, Adrian brought a wing up over Rhino to keep him from being pelted with rain.

Opening up a private comm line to Rhino, Adrian stared out at the pitch black city as he spoke.

" _We did it buddy._ "

" _Victory!_ " Aleksei repeated over the private comm, laughing. " _We are good team, Vulture._ "

" _We are. Good job out there – but, next time, listen to Otto. The Doc knows what he's talking about, you need to listen to him._ "

Aleksei snorted over the comm. " _He's still kid, why should I listen to him? Snooty, tubby boy with bad hair and bad attitude._ "

" _Show some respect, he built your suit for you._ "

" _Pfeh. Built suit for himself. Built suit for Gargan. I get to wear it and do all the work. Is fun, sure, but – not doing it for me._ "

Adrian tried to sound casual, moving carefully to sit on Rhino's raised hand, wing remaining outstretched over them both.

" _What's Gargan got on you anyway, that's keeping you here?_ "

It was a risk. Aleksei could go run his mouth to Gargan about Adrian even asking, but at this point, he was willing to risk it.

" _He friends with Russian mafia, run guns for them for five years or so, always dependable, always good at street level stuff. Get a nickname – Scorpion._ "

" _Because of the tattoo?_ "

" _No no, because of story. You hear of Scorpion and the Frog?_ "

Adrian shook his head. " _'Fraid I haven't._ "

Rhino offered his other hand to Adrian, the man hesitantly stepping on it, only to be lifted up onto an enormous armored shoulder. Sitting, Adrian brought up both wings around them like a protective dome. He could clearly see the rainfall through his enhanced vision now, which meant it must've been coming down in sheets.

Aleksei stood in the center of the helipad, staring out at the city through his own elaborate viewing system.

" _Scorpion wants to cross a river, but can't swim – will drown if he tries on his own. He meets a Frog, and the Scorpion tells the Frog, 'Frog, swim us both over. I won't sting you – if I did, we would both drown.' So Frog agrees, and he lets Scorpion ride on his back, and they begin to cross river. Halfway across the river, Scorpion stings Frog, and as they begin to sink, Frog asks Scorpion why has he stung him, now they will both die. Scorpion just says that he cannot help it, it is his nature to sting._ "

Adrian lifted the visor off completely, exposing his eyes to the natural light and air outside. The enormous black goggles that fit onto the helmet slid up and back to allowed him to see without impediment. The cool, light air hit his face and he could smell the rain in the air immediately. Even with the recycled air in his oxygen system, just a tiny bit of open space in his helmet let the familiar smell reach his nose.

" _So how did that story get connected to Mac Gargan?_ " Adrian asked as he leaned forward, relaxing on Aleksei's shoulder.

" _He was good gun runner for us, and bosses wanted to promote him, give him jobs with more responsibility. Several times they let him try – each time, he screw up. Temper, or violence – he could never negotiate without anger. Could never take no for answer. No matter what tailored suit he wear, what simple task they give him. Answer is always violence._ " Aleksei paused, sighing. " _He is smart man. Very smart. But – not good with people. Even worst of us need to negotiate deal now and then with both sides going home happy. Not Mac Gargan. He sting every frog that tries to help him across river._ "

" _I'm guessing he didn't get a scorpion tattooed on his neck to remind himself of his own personal failures_." Adrian ventured.

" _Heh – no. He hear men calling him Russian word for scorpion, asks what it means, never asked why. He thought it was compliment._ "

" _So has he got something on you that's keeping you working for him?_ "

Aleksei is silent for a while, but Adrian can hear another, smaller sigh across the comm.

" _...Nothing else left. Gargan and I, sent to jail at the same time. Most other Mafia I knew in jail turned to dust, the rest tell me that there is no point in going back to old way of things. Feel lost, really. Where does person go from something like this? World falling apart all around us. Gargan is scorpion, but his plans give me purpose. Would be lost without something to do. Friends dead, maybe. Family dead, maybe. No way of knowing. No way of figuring out..what to do. But this is easy...do things to distract from thinking about things I cannot change_."

Adrian wasn't sure if Aleksei would notice or even feel the hand that he placed on his shoulder, but he did it anyway.


	10. Chapter 10

"You think this is the table they all sat around and talked about big important Avengers stuff at?" Aleksei asked as he circled the large glass conference table.

"Probably where Stark screwed all of his secretaries." Otto snorted as he sat down.

Aleksei gave the table a wary glance, but after a few moments of consideration he sat down as well.

Adrian and Gargan joined them shortly afterward, with Kravinoff coming in last, red eyed and yawning.

"A little too early to be partying just yet, Kravinoff." Gargan hissed, glaring at the man as he nursed his head. "We need to secure our territory, first and foremost. That means taking out any leftovers from the nearby blocks, scaring off any potential competition, and securing resources."

Kravinoff looked like he had half a mind to punch Gargan for his tone, but he seemed to cool off the moment Mac started talking business. His plan for retaking the tower had, by all accounts, been a stellar success. They trusted him. Or at least, they trusted his ability to plan.

"I'm going to block off each of the next four weeks and divide up duties accordingly." Gargan continued, taking out a slip of paper from his jacket pocket and unfolding it. He glanced at it briefly then spoke.

"Kravinoff, you're in charge of establishing our new territory. Kick any looters or gangs or whatever else back at least by three blocks. If all they need is a friendly talk, great. If all they need is a bullet, great. I don't care which, I want them out. I only want our guys to be the ones on the streets four weeks from now."

Kravinoff's bored expression perked up at the thought, a hungry smile splitting across his face.

"Otto, you're in charge of figuring out how much juice the arc reactor powering this place has left. Once we find out that much, we gotta start plans on how to rig up a power system to the Chitauri tech once the arc reactor runs dry."

Otto scoffed at that, "I'm not an electrician-" He paused at the glare that Mac was giving him, and quickly added, "But – but I'll find one! I know a guy that might still be able to lend a hand!"

"Who?" Gargan asked.

"I went to school with him. His name's Max – he's...a little weird but he's an electrician. Uh – a journeyman, but, he might – I mean – he-...that's – that's good I think – good enough.."

Adrian felt like he was watching the kid drown on his own words as Gargan just stared bullets into him. Might as well throw the poor kid a line.

"Journeyman ought to be fine." He interjected, glancing at Gargan. "The arc reactor technology isn't as hard as Stark likes to pretend it is." It was. "It's harder to set up a good stereo system than to just reroute a power supply." It wasn't.

Oh it was ridiculously complex and complicated to run and maintain an industrial arc reactor, and took years of training, but who the hell was going to find a single ARC-trained and qualified electrician in New York after society had collapsed? They didn't just have a bunch of electricians in boxes with a sign taped on that read 'free to a good home'.

"Well if he fucks up, that's on you." Gargan told Otto, who just exhaled in relief once he was off the hot seat.

"Aleksei, you're on cleanup with Kravinoff."

"Easy!" Aleksei exclaimed, leaning back in his chair, satisfied.

Finally, Gargan came to Adrian, gesturing at him. "That puts you in charge of resources. Water's not running, so, we need potable water, and food, ammo, guns, fuel, all the good stuff. Water and food first though."

"Hope you all like couscous and quinoa, because we're going to be living on grains." Adrian muttered. A collection of dissatisfied grumbles rose up from the group but Adrian ignored their weak protests.

"Four weeks. Kravinoff, Aleksei, get the blocks cleaned up around the tower. Otto, figure out our Arc reactor situation, get your electrician over here to help...and Adrian I guess you really don't have a deadline, but have an inventory for me by the deadline."

Everyone nodded, all of them already thinking about how to best approach their given tasks.

"Any questions?"

Every head at the table shook, and Gargan folded up his slip of paper and walked out.

Adrian sighed, still tired from sleeping on the floor. Potable water, food, and then a mattress for fuck's sake. He was too old to be napping on a glass floor these days. He caught sight of Aleksei weaving his way around the table toward him and rubbed his eyes, trying to appear more awake.

"I have something to ask, is special request." Aleksei whispered, although his whisper was more of a shout, nothing quiet about it. The entire room could no doubt hear him.

"Go ahead." Adrian didn't even bother to lower his voice.

"I need mattress." Aleksei whisper-shouted, looking ashamed, "Floor is cold and hard and back is sore."

Otto cleared his throat, looking between them with a matching look of shame upon his face. "...I too would...like a mattress." He whispered quietly.

All eyes now turned to Kravinoff, who was staring at the trio from across the table. He was doing his best to appear disinterested, but the tiniest dip of his head indicated he was in the same boat as the other two.

"Anything else while I'm out? Beer? Chips? Hot dogs?" Adrian scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Yes please, all three!" Aleksei exclaimed, sounding desperately hopeful.

Adrian didn't have the heart to tell him that he was being sarcastic, but Otto did.

"I might be able to get you all a few things here or there. Make a list, tape it on my door, and I'll keep an eye out." Adrian relented. "But I can't make any promises. We'll be lucky if we aren't drinking rainwater by next month."

* * *

Rounding up potable water and food was a hell of a chore.

Adrian was beginning to think that Gargan had given it to him purely out of spite. Logistically of course, it made perfect sense. He could fly, he was the fastest, and second to Rhino he was the most heavily armored.

 _Still_.

It was long hours of searching through a mostly abandoned city, occasionally crossing into the burrows. But staring at rooftops yielded results. He began to learn what to look for. What signs of life on a rooftop meant that there were people inhabiting the place. Buckets left out for rainwater was the easiest sign. Spot a rooftop full of those, and he knew that the building had a permanent resident. A permanent resident meant a stockpile of food.

That's where the details got uglier. Sometimes a good threat could shake a person out of their hole. If they complied without a fight he'd even leave them a few cans for their trouble. This was a rare, and almost always happened when the person was just either unarmed or had a good head on their shoulders. The doomsday preppers that had 'seen it coming' were the ones that Adrian got tense around. They always had firepower, and usually shot as soon as they saw him swooping by a window.

He'd gotten lucky with one of them. One had decided that the stockpile of food wasn't worth his life. Or worth leaving his teenage son fatherless. Adrian had raided the stockpile of food but left the guns behind. It was the only way he could show the man gratitude for not forcing his hand to kill them both. He'd been glad it hadn't come to that.

The rest of the doomsday nuts or greedy sons of bitches who'd stockpiled food from their deceased neighbors weren't so eager to share. Adrian tore through their apartments and homes like a furious black wind. The suit made it so easy that he began pulling off dives and aerial maneuvers that he wouldn't have ever dreamed of performing in his old wing rig.

Concrete, wood beams, bodies, steel and cement. The Chitauri-metal that formed the wings tore through them all like a searing hot knife slicing into an already warm stick of butter. Bullets ricocheted and bounced off of his armor. His helmet, for all of its cumbersome clumsiness, absorbed a few well placed bullets and he barely felt a thing.

In the four weeks Gargan had given him to collect food, Adrian had gathered enough to last the five of them all of three months. For five grown men, two of which had to maintain mountains of muscle, it was an enormous haul. But they'd need more. That of course, begged the question – how long could they keep living like this? How long until they were forced to leave their meaningless prize of a tower behind? No matter how many doomsday preppers littered New York and Jersey, it all came down to a simple fact. It couldn't last forever.

Part of Adrian couldn't see any reason in asking Gargan what his plans for the future were. That part of him was the part that lay in wait for simple revenge. There was another part of him however. That part was beginning to finally accept the fact that this might be his new life. He hated Gargan, but Aleksei and Otto had become friends. Adrian couldn't lie to himself and pretend they were just business acquaintances anymore.

He felt torn.

There was the possibility of continuing this life if they left New York city and moved elsewhere. Society would eventually rebuild, but Gargan's need to stay sedentary in a dying city with an evaporating population wasn't going to do them any favors along the way. On the other hand, Adrian couldn't completely bury the possibility that Doris or Liz could very well have survived. One of them, or even both, could be alive.

Adrian couldn't ignore that either.

He flip flopped several ideas of how to move forward until a conclusion finally presented itself. Maybe it was time to reconsider Gargan. Maybe it was time to be completely honest with him about his need to find out the whereabouts of his family.

Mac didn't trust him. Mac trusted Aleksei and Kravinoff and Otto, but he never got too close to Adrian, even when he wasn't in his suit. He was expecting Adrian to strike at him, even though he'd done everything that Mac Gargan had asked of him. After risking his life multiple times, nearly dying during the New Paltz mission, spending weeks gathering food and resources, Gargan still didn't trust him.

Adrian suspected that Gargan knew he was hiding something. If that was the case, better to get out in the open that his true concern was for his wife and daughter, and not some half-baked plan to kill Gargan and become the new king on the hill.

 _Well, fuck it_ , he figured.

Adrian was a straightforward man. If a problem presented itself, he'd rather deal with it on his own.

Gargan was having his morning coffee when Adrian found him. He never wandered up to the helipad, which had been unofficially designated as Adrian's floor. He never went too far up the building while Adrian was away on a mission either.

Funny that he was only realizing this now. Gargan's patterns of avoiding the helipad deck and upper floors where Adrian resided had never really occurred to him until he'd had to go looking for him.

Looking up from his coffee and toast, Mac leaned back in his chair as Adrian sat across the table from him. Two of his thugs were nearby, both of them eyeing Adrian as they continued to chat over a pot of coffee.

"Can we talk?" Adrian asked, briefly glancing at the two by the door.

Gargan turned his head, jerking it toward the door. Without a word of argument, the two men shuffled out, leaving Gargan and Adrian alone.

Mac took a small sip of the steaming coffee. "What's on your mind?"

Adrian cut right to the chase. "I know you don't trust me." Adrian ignored the brief bit of surprise that crossed Gargan's face.

"I'm old but I'm not stupid Mac. I don't trust you either. We're criminals. You could probably count how many people you trust on one hand. Same goes for me. So I'm gonna be completely clean and honest with you here, and all that I ask is that you do the same. How's that sound?"

Gargan stared at him with an empty expression. Adrian knew that there were some serious wheels turning behind those blank eyes. He finally nodded, and Adrian continued.

"When I got arrested, Doris and Liz – my wife and daughter – they moved to Oregon. I asked them to do it. The fucking media circus around me was going to be brutal. I didn't want my baby getting swallowed up in that...I know you don't care about any of this. I'm explaining it to you because I want you to understand where I'm coming from."

Adrian paused, shifting in his chair. "I'm committed to this. I'm all in on this. On your plans, on Otto's tech, on whatever you want to do here. I'm in this for the long haul, but I need something in return."

It took an amount of courage Adrian hadn't expected to voice his request. He realized the gravity of just what he was asking moments before he had to force it out.

"I just – with the wings, I'd just need a week. Going at full speed I can get there in less than a day. I just need to make sure my Liz is okay. I need to know if they're both gone."

Saying this out loud was so much harder than Adrian anticipated. He could feel his face growing hot just from finally saying it out loud. It was as if the dread and fear had all been ephemeral and floating in his mind like wispy, feathery clouds. As he made his request, and made the words real, the fears became heavy and concrete. It felt as if frigid, sharp stones were resting inside of his stomach, reminded him of the brutal reality set before him.

Gargan's expression was unreadable for a long time. He only broke eye contact once to bring the cup of coffee up to his lips. Setting the mug down, he stared it at for a long time before finally answering.

"Otto's picked up some radio chatter. The military is in the early stages or reorganizing itself and wants to reestablishing a presence. Two days ago one of my men spotted a Navy ship. I'm not a fuckin' expert on boats but it has a bunch of guns on it and it's heading into the harbor."

Adrian didn't know whether to feel hopeful that Gargan had just gone straight into his next plan or filled with dread. Was he just downright ignoring his request, or setting up some kind of deal?

"You take the crew out and keep the provisions and guns in tact – then you can have your little road trip to Oregon or Washington or wherever the fuck you think your kid is."

Adrian couldn't help himself and scoffed. "Mac – I mean – a Navy ship? That's asking a little much don't you think?"

"So is asking me to trust you with those wings all the way across the continental United-fucking-States. You're my air support, you're the only one in the team that can haul food or weapons without trouble. We give up our air support, we give up a huge part of what has made this work."

"So, let me get this straight. You think sending me out to Oregon is more of a risk than setting me on a Navy ship? Gonna lose your air support real fast if some hot shot sailor gets a good hit in with a deck gun. This armor protects me from machine guns, not anti-aircraft missiles!"

Gargan just shrugged at him, indifferent.

Turning his head away in disgust, Adrian sneered. "You're doing this out of spite, aren't you?. You know what? Fine." He stood up quickly, pointing at Gargan. "I'll get your fucking boat taken care of. It's not going to matter in the long run. You can't seriously believe this whole thing we have going is gonna' last."

"What makes you think that?" Mac asked, composed and calm.

"We have to find somewhere with resources, somewhere people are gathering. If society is going to eventually rebuild, which – I mean – we all kinda figure that it eventually will...then what? What's your plan?"

"I'm working on it." Gargan responded quietly, which only angered Adrian further. "You're assuming, incorrectly, that I haven't thought a year ahead. Two years ahead. Five years ahead. We have no control over what's going to happen. What we do have control over is how well we're prepared for it. We need what's on that ship. The rations, the firearms, raw materials for Otto's lab. All of those resources can help us ensure our longevity when things do inevitably change."

Adrian found himself torn. He hated to admit it, but Gargan wasn't wrong. The amount of resources on the ship would be a huge boon. Still – attacking a Naval ship, head on, even with all the upgrades Otto had given his suit, was a suicide run.

" _If_...and that's one hell of an _If_...I'm able to do what you're asking, the military will just send even more troops up here. They'll strike back twice as hard."

"That's assuming they have the resources to strike back. It's one boat. You're assuming that other threats haven't taken advantage of this unique situations. Other threats up and down the coast that the Navy might be spending more of their time and resources on. They might not be able to afford to send another ship up this way."

"What if they can, and do? What if they send ground forces? We can repel criminals and gangs, but...a whole military force? We might win but I doubt we'd come out with everyone we went in with."

Gargan stood up, taking his coffee with him as he headed to the kitchen sink. He poured the cup out and washed it clean, setting it on a small towel upside-down to dry.

"I'm sending you to do this because I know you're completely capable of succeeding." He said, turning to face Adrian across the kitchen.

Adrian was thunderstruck. Even if he believed Gargan was telling him this in complete honesty, he'd still find it hard to believe.

Mac headed toward the door, looking back at Adrian one last time.

"I could've just let you die, back when you got shot. Rhino and Otto vouched for you but, I couldn't see the point. I figured, you were just some old guy. You were a big shot before you got locked up, sure...but anybody can learn to fly a pair of those wings." He shrugged. "I was wrong. I'm man enough to admit a mistake. The shit I've seen you do, the balls that it takes to just get out there and do what you do, consistently, day after day, and not screw up...I respect that. I wouldn't risk my most valuable asset on a job if I didn't think you had the skill to pull it off."

Gargan sent Adrian a pointed, knowing look. He then turned, and simply left. Leaving Adrian to stare at the door in complete shock.


	11. Chapter 11

Adrian looked over the wings for the fourth time that morning. He knew it was just nerves, but who wouldn't be nervous in his shoes? How many people could say, even on a good day, that they felt they had what it took to pick a fight with an Arleigh-Burke class Naval Destroyer.

Otto had been kind enough to go spy and identify the type of ship that was sitting in the Navy yard. Naturally it was a Destroyer. When Adrian had asked Otto how many deck guns it had on it, he'd scoffed and said deck guns were the least of his worries.

"It's some real pre-'boohoo weapons kill people' Stark Industries shit. Before he started being such a bleeding heart." Otto muttered distastefully. "These boats have a lot of missiles on them...and I know I've said this once, but I'm just gonna say it again. I really don't think it's a good idea for you to go by yourself."

Adrian had rejected the idea then, and he was gearing up to do it again as he pulled on his pressure suit. He could hear Otto and Aleksei speaking loudly to each other as they walked toward the helipad deck. The two emerged just as he was clipping the thin body armor around his torso.

Looking up, Adrian saw there was a third man with them, one he didn't recognize. He was hanging behind Otto and Aleksei as they yammered on. The man looked to be in his mid to late 20's, with light brown skin and a clean shaven head. Tattoos ran along one side of his scalp, moving down his neck and beneath his collar. He carried himself with an apathetic swagger that one could only own if they absolutely meant it, and he meant it. He cast the briefest look at Adrian's wings, which sat on their standing harness, black metal feathers splayed out far and wide. Whoever he was, he didn't seem terribly interested in them.

Aleksei quieted down as Otto gestured back and forth between Adrian and the newcomer.

"Adrian this is Max. Max this is Adrian. Aka _THE_ Vulture himself. Pretty cool, huh? It must be like meeting a celebrity or something."

Max looked over at Adrian, his hands in his pockets, stifling a yawn. "Feels more like meeting some old guy, but whatever."

What a little shit. Adrian liked him already.

"I hear you're the one to solve our Arc reactor questions?" Adrian ventured, leaning his head down. Aleksei had begun to fix a black armored collar around his neck and clip it into place behind his head.

"That's the story." Max sighed, a hint of worry moving across his face.

Otto laughed nervously, slapping Max on the shoulder. "Well you better Max because Gargan will literally, completely, 100% kill the both of us if you don't."

Max grimaced, crossing his arms. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. Fuck. I'd rather be back working up on the poles than this shit." He paused, looking up at the others, "Power poles."

Aleksei helped Adrian into the remaining pieces of body armor, finally stepping back once the man had pulled on the talon gloves. As he finished testing the talons to ensure they worked properly, Adrian caught Max staring at him.

"What's up?"

"You're taking down that big ship that's in the harbor, right?" Max asked, glancing back at the wings again, then at Adrian.

"That's the plan."

"Alone?"

Adrian grimaced and looked back at Otto and Aleksei. Neither of them looked happy with the situation, and Adrian had already been through several rounds of arguments.

"Otto's rig and the Rhino suit just aren't good choices to try and take on a boat with. If Rhino or Otto are knocked overboard or an explosion happens below deck, they'd drown because of the weight of their tech."

"Suit has eject system!" Aleksei interjected loudly.

"You still need to unbuckle yourself from the armor, and you could be knocked unconscious." Adrian countered. Aleksei went quiet with an angry grunt afterward.

"My arm rig is-" Otto began.

"Your arm rig isn't going to do me any good if you're riddled with bullets. I won't be able to keep you protected and raid the boat at the same time." He snapped. Quickly shut down, Otto grumbled angrily, and crossed his arms.

"You are sure Kravinoff won't join?" Aleksei asked.

"He doesn't strike me as someone who likes to repeat himself. He said 'no' once and I figured that was that." Adrian pulled his helmet on, flipping a switch along the back that brought up the HUD.

Walking toward the wings, he looked back at Otto as the young man followed him, helping him into the flight harness. It still irked Adrian that he needed other people to help him get fully armored and into the larger wings, but it wasn't like he could even begin to take care of them on his own either. They were just high maintenance, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Once he was strapped in, he activated the turbines, allowing them to begin a warm-up cycle and performed a quick systems check. Lists of systems within the wings checked off one by one in his visors HUD.

"I added more." Otto said, voice slightly muffled through the helmet.

"Hm?"

"I added more countermeasures. They'll probably let out a lot of payload at you before it's all over. I put in as many as I could."

Adrian caught Otto's unease. The kid wasn't good at hiding his anxiety, especially in his voice. He brought a hand up, resting it down on Otto's shoulder. Black crescent talons dug into Otto's jacket and skin.

It was all Adrian could do for him. He tried to think of something to say, but he couldn't find anything at this point. His mind was either on Liz and Doris or on the utter confusion he now held about Gargan. But those thoughts were for another time. He knew he needed to focus on the mission at hand. If he couldn't complete that, then none of the inner turmoil would be worth the pain, because he'd be dead at the bottom of the East river.

"Do a round for me." Adrian rasped, voice made rough and crackling through the helmet's air filtration system.

"We do two!" Aleksei shouted, slapping Adrian's armored shoulder roughly.

Adrian gave them a thumbs up, the men stepping away as he began to rise up and out of the wing stand. Turbines at full power, he leaned forward, speeding over the helipad.

This whole time he'd thought that he wasn't afraid to die. Not since the 2nd incident. Not since having to slowly digest either or both his wife and daughter could be dead. Not that he'd wanted to die – he'd gotten close, but some part of him always kept fighting.

But he'd never felt afraid to dive, afraid to fly toward danger, afraid to take on any number of whack jobs with guns when there was something waiting for him at the other end.

Soaring between the empty skyscrapers, dropping into steep dives toward the pavement then swooping up just moments from impact, ascending back into the air in graceful loops – Adrian realized he was afraid. Even after losing so much, he still had more to lose. There would always be something for him to cling to, there would always be something for him to fear losing. Wasn't that a kick in the teeth.

Good time to have this realization that he really wanted to not die just as he was soaring straight towards a Navy battleship to pick a fight.

* * *

"You needed to take a left back there!" Otto shouted.

"I know where I'm going!" Max snapped back, speeding the car down an emptied out street. A few abandoned cars were all that remained on the road, the streets otherwise devoid of life.

"I'm still worried," Aleksei muttered from the back seat, hunched forward in the small, compact car. "You sure Gargan won't be mad that we took gasoline for this?"

Max scoffed. "We'll siphon out what's left in the tank when we get back and put it back into the cache. I doubt he's gonna notice five miles worth of gas gone."

"This is way more than five miles because the ship is in the Brooklyn Navy yard and you're heading towards Soho you dumb shit!" Otto barked. "We need to get to the bridge – Williamsburg – just turn around here!"

Aleksei sighed, tuning them out as the two argued. He knew Otto was right, he'd actually gotten quite acquainted with the city, but arguing with two loud, angry, fast talking young men who were fluent in English wasn't something he felt up to right now.

He'd agreed to come along because he just felt the need to see if Adrian would be able to do it. If Adrian was going to be shot down and fall into the water in a scorching ball of fire, he'd want to be there to witness it. Not because he wanted to see the man die, in fact it was quite the opposite. No. Aleksei didn't want him to die alone, for his final moments to only be remembered by the ones who shot him out of the sky.

It seemed remarkably unfair, but – if life had taught Aleksei anything, it was that absolutely nothing was fair.

Otto and Max continued to bicker for several more minutes until the bridge came into view, and Max entered a bitter silence, which lasted about three seconds.

He shot up in his seat, pointing and shouting. "Oh fuck me, they've already started!"

Aleksei leaned forward, trying to wedge himself between the two front seats to see. The sun was rising ahead of them, but distant, spotty clouds stopped the brightest of it from blinding them. Still, the sky was changing from dark navy to light blue, and the tall cranes of the navy yard were lighting up in bright gold and crimson as the sun struck them.

The Destroyer sat in the east river, exposed and out in the open. It was outside of the protective basin that Otto had said it was hiding in a day prior. As Aleksei scanned the sky above of the ship, he could see why.

Flashes lit up the deck of the ship as missiles launched from the surface. They streaked through the air, tails alight, spiraling toward their target.

Adrian was hard to spot at first, moving as fast as he did. A blinding eruption of white flares drew all eyes toward him then as the first round of countermeasures flew out of the tops of his wings.

"He's using them! YES!" Otto shouted, fist pumping as he sped along the bridge. Once they reached the best vantage point to the battle they could, he slowed the car and ran out to the rail guard, leaning forward.

The missiles struck the countermeasures as intended, exploding in the air as Adrian flew around the boat in a wide circle. Aleksei could hear sirens coming from the boat, different tones and pitches indicating different warnings. He'd hoped that because of the huge loss from the 2nd incident, and the rise in chaos and disorder – that this ship wouldn't have been armed to the teeth. But it was.

Missiles flew out of the deck, one after another. Adrian had to swoop and dodge and turn and dive, releasing the countermeasures sparingly, and only if he wasn't able to outmaneuver the missiles. If this had been fifteen years ago, it would've been different. Most of the missiles, if Aleksei had to guess, were Hammer Industries. Hammer tech wasn't as polished as Stark tech, but Stark wasn't in the weapons business these days either. People could joke about comparisons all they wanted – at the end of the day, 90% of the time, Hammer tech worked, and right now the missiles were visibly wearing Adrian down.

"Why isn't he attacking the ship? They're just gonna keep firing missiles at him!" Max asked. Aleksei could hear the clear frustration in his voice.

"There's two deck gunners...and..." Otto was squinting through a pair of binoculars, "They have guys on deck with machine guns too. The machine guns wouldn't give him too much trouble on their own but – so many at once, I'm not sure. Plus the deck guns, those are huge – then if he gets too close he wouldn't have the room to maneuver from a missile."

"So what then?" Aleksei finally ventured, squinting as he watched Adrian circle around the boat, skirting just above the waters surface. The deck gunners were good. They were on Adrian the split second he was within range, and they were accurately guessing his flight path. More than once Aleksei could see Adrian wobble during a pass then suddenly tear away and fly upward, ascending to a safe distance to prepare for another pass.

"He's just gotta bleed them dry." Otto muttered.

Bleeding the Destroyer dry took hours.

More than once one of them had to go and find a spot to relieve themselves, but they didn't dare leave. As early morning turned to noon, Aleksei could tell that the Destroyer was taking its time to make more precise, calculated shots. He could also tell that Adrian was worn thin. He'd never ridden in the wings before, but Aleksei was sure that all of that rolling and maneuvering would wear anyone down after several hours.

Once the machine gunners on deck had finally run out of ammunition, Adrian began to strafe with his Chitauri-rigged pistol. Aleksei didn't need the binoculars to see the purple lines of light cutting across the deck and slicing through anyone unlucky enough to be caught in their path.

It was more of the same after that. Dive after dive, sometimes he would shoot, other times he'd duck and swerve at the last moment, scraping the tips of his wings across the deck to try and cut any remaining sailors down. The task was exhausting, and Aleksei knew that Gargan had sent him on this mission as some sort of punishment.

Adrian did a steep, quick dive, then swung back up into the air. Watching the deck, Aleksei noticed smoke beginning to emerge.

"Is ship damaged?" He asked, looking over at Otto.

The young man shook his head. "He threw a smoke grenade below deck. He's tryna coax the rest of the crew out. I think they're done for."

"Bout fucking time." Max huffed, laying on top of the car. "He's gonna die of old age if he doesn't wrap this up soon."

Several more smoke and tear gas grenades were thrown below deck, into the innards of the ship. Aleksei eventually wrestled the binoculars away from Otto and watched with rapt attention when he saw a group of shapes emerging out onto the deck.

"What's going on?" Otto asked anxiously, trying to grab the binoculars from Aleksei. The larger man easily shoved him off to the side.

"Men are unarmed – looks like surrender." Aleksei muttered, his attention entirely on the sight before him.

The remaining crew had mustered on the deck. Aleksei estimated around fifty remained, all of them covered in sweat and blood from the few injured they'd been able to drag down from the top deck.

Adrian circled over the ship several times before finally gliding down to the deck. He hovered there, wings spread wide as one of the crew stepped forward and spoke. Aleksei couldn't make out too much, but he saw a few hand gestures pass between the two men, then Adrian simply turned and rose back up into the air.

"What's happening!?" Otto demanded.

"Crew is abandoning ship, I think." Aleksei finally handed the binoculars over to Otto.

"You really think they would?" Max asked from his spot on the roof of the car. "I mean...it's a big fuckin' ship."

"Already lose half of entire military. Probably not keen to lose more." Aleksei grunted.

He watched as the crew, now just tiny dots on the gray and red-splattered deck of the Destroyer, gathered around the lifeboats and began to prepare them to go into the water. Adrian remained high up in the air, constantly circling over the Destroyer.

"He should've just killed them all." Otto grumbled. "Gargan's gonna be pissed if he finds out Adrian let some of the crew live."

Aleksei grunted in agreement. It seemed excessive, but they couldn't take those kinds of chances anymore. Gangs were one thing, the military was another.

"We should call in some guys to make sure those sailors don't get out of Brooklyn." Otto said, reaching for his comm device.

"Wait," Aleksei grunted, pointing to the two lifeboats as they bobbed toward the Naval yard. He'd seen Adrian adjust the feathers on his wings a moment before. It was just the slightest change in angle and tilt, but it meant something. Aleksei had begun to notice it just before Adrian would go into a hard dive.

Otto looked at him questioningly, but Aleksei just stared as the lifeboats made their way across the water. They were almost to land, heading straight for the South Williamsburg ferry landing.

Aleksei couldn't imagine how they must've felt. They were so close. After such a long fight, the men and women on those lifeboats must've been exhausted. Covered in the blood of their dead or dying comrades, half blind from tear gas and smoke grenades. Hours of trying their best and only ending in hard fought failure. Now they were so close to land, close to cover and safety, where they could rest.

It was cold blooded to the core, but Aleksei knew that Adrian wouldn't have been able to finish off the rest of them if it hadn't come to this.

Adrian dove. The lifeboats were just yards from the ferry terminal – just moments from land, from cover, from a safe place to hide. If nothing else, the Chitauri gun did its work quickly and Aleksei was spared having to watch any of them struggle in the water once it was all over.

Otto lowered his binoculars, grimacing.

"Damn." Max chuckled as he sat up on the roof of the car. "That old dude is a fucking douchebag. He let them get so close too. That was _mean_."

"No place for playing fair in this life." Aleksei responded, moving back to the car.

He gave one last glance back to the floating remnants of the lifeboats. The water was awash with blood and sliced up life jackets, some still with their occupants floating inside of them. A loud roar caught his attention, and he quickly looked up.

Adrian had shot tow lines from the base of his wings down to the deck of the boat. The jet along the backs of his wings was roaring at full blast, turbines spinning madly in tandem.

"Is he tryna lift that thing!?" Max exclaimed, snatching the binoculars from Otto.

Otto snatched them back. "No you idiot – he's just tugging it across the river to our side. Jesus, you gotta start thinking about stuff before you just let it come out of your mouth."

"Tugboat! Tugbird!" Aleksei shouted at Adrian, even though he knew the man couldn't hear him.

It was clear that the wings were struggling with towing the huge boat. It was an arduous grind. Inch by inch, foot by foot, it took Adrian nearly an hour to tug the Destroyer across the river. Once it was finally dragged up near a fire boat house that sat along the river's edge, Adrian secured the boat lines down and flew to the small park nearby.

* * *

He needed to use the bathroom badly and his stomach had been growling for two hours straight, but Adrian desperately needed to let the adrenaline rush wear down before he flew back to the tower.

It was ugly business, the whole affair, and he didn't feel like that had been much of a victory. He'd been just about ready to cut the damn boat in half and leave it at that until they'd finally surrendered.

Now he had the deaths of nearly a hundred and fifty sailors on his hands.

Gang members, Spider-man, other criminals who got in his way – the occasional hoarder of supplies who wanted to be a tough guy and try to pull a gun on him – they deserved it. But this didn't sit well with him. Not that he'd ever been a gung-ho military kinda guy, but he'd seen their faces up close when their captain had offered a surrender. Most of them couldn't have been too much older than Liz. Early 20's maybe, scared out of their wits but putting on strong faces.

They'd survived the 2nd incident, probably watched a lot of their buddies turn into dust, lived through the months of hell that followed as the world fell apart – then were just unlucky enough to be on the wrong boat in the wrong harbor. They were barely adults, these were just kids to him.

 _So was Peter Parker,_ a voice reminded him in the back of his head.

 _Well_ , he had to justify to himself, _Parker had decided to get his hands in his business. He was just protecting what was his. This mission – this whole takeover of New York – this was Gargan's deal. The blood was ultimately on Mac Gargan's hands for this massacre._

 _...No._

 _It wasn't._

He had to accept that at this point, it didn't matter what kind of justification he could make up in his head. There was no going back to feeling like any kind of a good person.

A car honk drew his attention, and he reached for his pistol, turning toward the sound.

Aleksei, Otto and Max waved at him from the nearby highway, shouting and hollering and giving him applause.

"Tugbird Boat-slayer!" Aleksei shouted, cheering for him.

Adrian hovered a few feet across the grass, leaning down in the best imitation of a bow he could muster while stuck in the harness. He decided it was time to return then, and began to ascend toward the skyline.

As he flew back, he had to wonder. Did Mac Gargan really think he'd been entirely capable of doing this? Or was it just a punishment and he expected word of failure? Adrian wasn't sure.

In due time he'd face him again and then, regardless if his intentions, if Gargan was true to his word, Adrian would get the chance to finally see if Liz and Doris had made it.

But they probably hadn't.

* * *

Author's Note: Apologies for this story being such a mess. I honestly hadn't meant for it to be this long. It was meant to be a series of vignettes, but, well, here we are. I didn't really plan for any character arcs, and I've had a lot going on irl so I haven't been doing a lot of behind the scenes work in terms of keeping characterizations on point like I should. If motivations seem all over the place, I apologize for that. I really appreciate if you've made it this far. I'm going to try and cap the story off at 15 chapters.


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